Experiences of Music Therapy Junior Faculty Members

EXPERIENCES OF MUSIC THERAPY JUNIOR FACULTY MEMBERS:

A NARRATIVE EXPLORATION

CAROL ANN OLSZEWSKI

Bachelor of Music

The University of Iowa

December 2001

Master of Arts: Music Therapy

The University of Iowa

December 2003

Submitted in partial fulfillment of requirements for the degree

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN URBAN EDUCATION

Cleveland State University

December 2019

We hereby approve the dissertation of Carol A. Olszewski Candidate for the Doctor of Philosophy in Urban Education Degree, Adult, Continuing, and Higher Education

This Dissertation has been approved for the Office of Doctoral Studies, College of Education and Human Services and CLEVELAND STATE UNIVERSITY, College of Graduate Studies by

______Dissertation Chairperson: Catherine Hansman, Ed.D.

C.A.S.A.L. ______Department & Date

______Methodologist: Anne Galletta, Ph.D.

Curriculum and Foundations ______Department & Date

______Outside Committee Member: Deborah Layman, M.M.

Music ______Department & Date

______Committee Member: Karie Coffman, Ph.D.

CEHS ESSC ______Department & Date

______Non-Voting Committee Member: Elice Rogers, Ed.D.

C.A.S.A.L. ______Department & Date

August 19, 2019 Candidate’s Date of Defense

Dedication

To God, that I choose the paths you intend me to travel and that I fight fiercely and

bravely the battles you know are mine. Thank you for the countless blessing you

have bestowed upon me, particularly my loved ones mentioned below, the

persistence necessary to do the works you wish me to do, and the perspective to

keep priorities straight.

To Mark, my love, and the very best partner that I could ever dream to have. Thank you

for taking up the slack while I pursued this thing…and all the other things. I love

you, always. My successes would not be possible without your love and support.

To my girls, who give me all the reasons necessary to be strong and resilient. I hope I

make you proud, because being your mom is my greatest accomplishment and

each of you is my greatest hope and my greatest contribution.

To my parents, I hope I make you proud. You told me learning was my job. I hope it is

one you believe me to do well. Thank you, Mom, for your support and your

encouragement to keep going. Dad, I miss you, and I hope to be half the mentor

to my students that you were to me and to yours.

To my committee, I could not be more humbled to have such strong, intelligent,

accomplished women guiding me along this journey. Thank you being model

academics. I hope to make you proud not only in this endeavor but also in future

endeavors.

To my students, who teach me as much I hope to teach them. Dream big and persist.

The best thing you can give to your clients is you. Thank you for silently

insisting I do my best to make you all proud.

EXPERIENCES OF MUSIC THERAPY JUNIOR FACULTY MEMBERS:

A NARRATIVE EXPLORATION

CAROL ANN OLSZEWSKI

ABSTRACT

Very few music therapists have educational background or training to be proficient at teaching at institutions of higher education. With only minimal (if any) training in andragogy and in research methodology, music therapy junior faculty (MTJF) members find themselves novice academics in the highly structured, competitive environment of the academy. In order for music therapists to be successful in their career change from clinical work to the academy, improvements and modifications to the education of future music therapy professors are likely, but data are necessary to intimate and to guide those changes.

This narrative research study explored the lived experiences of nine MTJF members as they sought to become successful members in the academy. Semi-structured interviews were conducted, and participants reviewed their narratives. Transformative

Learning Theory was used as the theoretical framework and social constructivism as the interpretive paradigm. This study’s findings indicated participants had similar experiences in their paths to music therapy, in their preparation for a future in higher education, in their pivotal relationships, in the tenure process, in their struggles, and in their knowledge of self. Recommendations for modifications to the music therapy graduate curriculum and for music therapy programs are made based on indications from the findings. These modifications include expanding opportunities for teaching, researching, and exposure to institutional politics; implementing extensive professor-

v graduate student mentorship; requiring a doctoral degree for tenure-track positions; extending professor mentorship to junior faculty members; developing a textbook on the academy for potential music therapy professors; and striving for improved diversity in graduate programs.

vi TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page

ABSTRACT……………………………………………………………………………....v

LIST OF TABLES…………………………………………………………………… xiii

LIST OF FIGURES……………………………………………………………….…….xiv

CHAPTER

I. INTRODUCTION………………………………………………………...1

Music Therapy………………………………………………….....1

Hierarchy of the Academy………………………………………...2

Career Transition and Socialization…………………………….....3

Personal Experience…………………………………………….....8

Problem…………………………………………………………..10

Purpose…………………………………………………………...10

Research Questions………………………………………………11

Narrative Design…………………………………………………11

Theoretical Framework…………………………………………..12

Interpretive Paradigm…………………………………………….13

Significance………………………………………………………13

Conclusion………………………………………………...……..14

Definitions……………………….……………………………….15

II. REVIEW OF LITERATURE……………………………………………17

Professionalization of Music Therapy………………………...…18

History of music therapy………………………………....18

vii Early publications………………………………..19

Early practitioners and educators………………...19

College programs develop……………………….24

Current education in music therapy…………………...…26

Hierarchy and Structure of the Academy………………………...27

Historical context of academy development……………..28

Current context of academy development……………….31

Faculty Socialization……………………………………………..33

Acculturation……………………………………………..33

Interpersonal interactions and relationships……………...35

Historical context of tense relationships…………37

Contemporary academic incivility……………….40

Mentorship……………………………………….42

Gender differences……………………………………….44

Career Transition………………………………………………...46

Occupational development……………………………….46

Transition to the academy………………………………..48

Transition from clinicians to academics…………………53

Professional Identity Development………………………………56

Music Therapy Faculty Perspectives…………………………….58

Conclusion……………………………………………………….60

III. METHODOLOGY………………………………………………………62

Design……………………………………………………………62

viii Research questions……………………………………………….63

Conceptual framework…………………………………………...64

Theoretical framework – Transformative Learning Theory…...... 65

Interpretive paradigm…………………………………………….70

Context…………………………………………………………...72

Participants……………………………………………………….72

Data collection…………………………………………………...73

Set one interviews………………………………………..75

Set two interviews………………………………………..76

Interview question development for Set One interviews...77

Interview question development for Set Two interviews..78

Analysis……………...….………………………………………..79

Transcription……………………………………...... 79

Coding……………………………………………………79

Ethical considerations…………………..….…………………….81

Confidentiality…………………....……………………...82

Researcher role…………………………………………………...82

Subjectivity…………………………………...………………….84

Trustworthiness…………………………………………………..85

Terminology…………………………………………...... 85

Trustworthiness and rigor………………………………..86

Summary…………………………………………………………88

IV. NARRATIVES………………………………………………….…….....89

ix Retelling……………………………………………………….....90

Allie………………………………………………………………91

Ken……………………………………………………….……..102

Lynn……………………………………………………….....…108

Kasey……………………………………………………………116

Maura……………………………………………………...……124

Kris…………………………………………………………...…132

Tori…………………………………………………………...…139

Summary………………………………………………………..146

V. FINDINGS……………………………………………………………...148

Response to questions…………………………………………..149

Path to music therapy…………………………………………...153

Experiences that led to music therapy………………….153

Connection to disability………………………………...154

Preparation of career in higher education………………………155

Love of supervision……………………………………..155

Educational experiences………………………………..156

Positive educational experiences……………….156

Gaps in educational experiences………………..158

Pivotal relationships…………………………………………….159

Influential persons leading to music therapy…………...160

Mentor professors………………………………………161

Recruited by mentor professors………………...162

x Coached by mentor professors………………….163

Trusted allies……………………………………………165

Tenure…………………………………………………………..168

Clarity and ambiguity…………………………………..168

Generous feedback……………………………………...170

Struggles………………………………………………………..172

Establishing academic autonomy……………………….172

Management of workload and beyond………………….175

Vulnerability……………………………………………178

Gatekeeper……………………………………………...179

Knowledge of self………………………………………………181

Development from struggles……………………………181

PhD sets up future………………………………………182

Self as learner…………………………………………...183

Self as educator…………………………………………187

Summary………………………………………………………..189

VI. DISCUSSION ……....……..…………………………………….…..…190

Research question one: Lived experiences……………………..191

Research question two: Gaining institutional knowledge………197

Research question three: Identity development………………...199

Overarching concepts…………………………………………...204

Recommendations for music therapy graduate curriculum…….214

Limitations……………………………………………………...219

xi Recommendations for future inquiry…………………………...220

Summary………………………………………………………..221

Closing thoughts………………………………………………..222

REFERENCES…………………………………………………………………………223

APPENDIX….………………………………………………………………………….239

A. Themes, Categories, and Exemplars……………………………………………239

xii LIST OF TABLES

Table Page

I. Participant Characteristics……………………………………………………152

xiii LIST OF FIGURES

Figure Page

1. MTJF Members’ Lived Experiences Interview Protocol: Questions…………..……78

2. Model of Interaction Among The Self, Pivotal Experiences, and Pivotal

Relationships………………………………………………………...……….……..209

3. Interaction of the Self, Pivotal Relationships, and Pivotal Experiences……………213

xiv

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

Board-certified music therapists possess knowledge in a myriad of skill areas such as the therapeutic application of music, the music therapy treatment process, the types of needs frequently associated with certain populations, and the development of musical skills necessary to support therapeutic goals. Music therapists (MTs) frequently develop clinical expertise based in the primary populations with whom they work and develop complementary skills to support their professional endeavors, such as business management skills, policy development skills, or human resources management skills.

When clinical music therapists are hired as professors at institutions of higher education, they bring their expertise in all of these skill areas to be shared with and conveyed to music therapy students.

Music Therapy

The history of music therapy is rich and predates written history. Artifacts from ancient civilizations indicate that healing rituals utilized music as early as 5000 BC

(Solanki, Zafar, & Rastogi, 2013). Through centuries of development, the use of music to affect maladies became more specific and more scientific. Publications in the late

1700s and early 1800s described varying aspects of the therapeutic application of music.

1 Throughout the 1800s, additional literature supported the use of music in medicine, particularly mental health. By the early 1900s, courses on the therapeutic application of music began to be offered. The first courses were offered by Eva Vescelius from her studio in Carnegie Hall, and she also penned the first music therapy publication in 1913.

Columbia University shortly thereafter offered a series of music therapy courses (Davis,

Gfeller, & Kahler, 2018). The profession advanced and expanded with the return of

WWI and WWII GIs. Music therapy programs at the VA hospitals became common, and facilities and their professionals began to recognize the importance of certified individuals providing the therapeutic application of the music. Collegiate programs sprung up across the country (Canon, 1963).

Current music therapy practice recognizes music therapy as the clinical, evidence- based, intentional application of the functional elements of music to address individualized goals within a therapeutic relationship by a board-certified music therapist.

Music therapists actively create, apply, and manipulate various music elements through live, improvised, adapted, individualized, or recorded music to address physical, emotional, cognitive, and social needs of individuals of all ages and of all abilities.

Hierarchy of the Academy

Faculty development, or professionalization, in higher education began when

Harvard College was founded in the American Colonies in 1635 (Cohen & Kisker, 2010) and continued to develop with American higher education (Schuster & Finkelstein,

2006). As colleges and universities grew in number and esteem, faculty needed to become more specialized and more involved in the promotion of the institution at which they were employed. These responsibilities eventually evolved into loose standards and

2 expectations. Over time, these expectations grew to include responsibilities to teach, to research, and to perform service to the institution and to the profession in which the professor was specialized. A professor’s success in meeting these expectations began to be reviewed in decision by peers as to whether or not the colleague merited tenure.

Additionally, a “pecking order” of faculty was established. This concept of ranking positions stemmed from the American Association of University Professors’ (AAUP)

1940 Statement of Principle, with its principle interest in promoting and defining the tenure process. It is notable that this issue was and continues to be an immense concern.

Earning tenure is still considered the “gold standard” for an academic. This process played a role in the professionalization of the professoriate, as it allowed for the professoriate to police itself; it allowed for incompetent instructors/researchers to be removed from the academic ranks (Cohen & Kisker, 2010). Institutions may have different expectations of their professors based on their Carnegie Classification©.

Career Transition and Socialization

Due to the fact that music therapy faculty members are all certified music therapists, most board-certified, and have practiced as clinical music therapists, MTJF members all made career changes from clinician to academic. Although many academic music therapists maintain some form of clinical work, the demands of the academy and the difference in career focus constitute a career change. Cavanaugh and Blanchard-

Fields (2015) stated that the motivators for the career changes parallel the characteristics of positive work/life development where the worker seeks a rewarding career about which he/she is passionate.

3 Some music therapy professors are hired to focus on conveyance of clinical skills knowledge through clinical courses (such as practica) and through clinical supervision.

Other music therapy professors are tasked with conveying academic knowledge through direct and/or indirect instruction. Some music therapy professors are tasked with teaching and supervising all skill areas. Very few board-certified MTs possess the educational background or received the necessary training to be proficient at teaching their expertise. With only minimal (if any) training in andragogy and in research methodology, music therapy junior faculty (MTJF) members find themselves novice academics in the highly structured, competitive environment of the academy.

The transition to the academy for individuals who are “professionals” is more complex than for those individuals who seek to work in higher education throughout their academic learning career. Those who seek academic positions frequently attend university for undergraduate studies, followed by obtaining a master’s degree, followed by a PhD, and then complete a postdoctoral program. Some individuals then work as professional research assistants or as adjunct or visiting professors. These individuals were “raised” in the academy and gained institutional knowledge through their academic journey. They likely had experiences with the necessity to “publish or perish,” with student course evaluations, and with navigating the complexities of the academy. Braun and Mauldin (2012) specifically described how accountancy professors who transitioned to the academy through their professional expertise experienced different feelings of value than did their peers who transitioned to the academy through PhD attainment.

Literature in nursing, law, social work, health sciences, medicine, accountancy, and education revealed that individuals who built successful careers outside of the

4 academy and then who transitioned to professorships experienced culture shock and frequently reported feelings of inadequacy (Aitken, 2010; Braun & Mauldin, 2012;

Foster, 2018; Hellsten, Martin, McIntyre, & Kinzel, 2011; Jubas, 2012; McDonald, 2010;

Reddick, 2015; Reynolds, 1992). These feelings of inadequacy likely resulted from changes in requisite workplace skills to meet the expectations of the academy. Several examples of differences in requisite workplace skills for clinical MTs who transitioned to professorships were explained and included the following: expectations of scholarly productivity, excellent teaching of traditional and nontraditional students, and maintaining role of educator only.

First, the academy frequently sets scholarship standards that are foreign to clinicians, and this requirement is likely the largest difference and most challenging aspect of the career transition. Clinical MTs can publish or write, and some participate as the provider of services for other researchers; however, there is rarely, if ever, a requirement of employment to participate in or to perform research. Next, teaching students is different than implementing music therapy with clients. While both require extensive planning and expertise in content, teaching in higher education requires knowledge of adult learning and adult development that is not as typically important to clinical work. In clinical work, it is more common to consider how the clients’ development differs from typical development, but most clients do not function at the developmental age of traditional undergraduate students – nonetheless graduate students.

Clinical MTs are well-versed in making accommodations, adapting to meet the clients’ needs, and practicing unconditional positive regard. Closely related to these skills is allowing for individualization and the practice that all progress is excellent. Practices in

5 the academy require clinical MTs to “shelf” several of these common practices, such as acceptance of all progress being adequate. Clinicians turned academics may struggle with the expectation that not all students will be successful. A clinician turned academic may also struggle to maintain the role of instructor and not enter into a dual-relationship by counseling or providing additional help to students outside what is ethical for the role of a professor. Furthermore, MTs are “helpers” by nature. This nature may serve the clinician well in establishing rapport with new colleagues and with students; however, new MTJF members may find themselves overextended in the required service component of their academic position due to the nature of wanting to contribute and to be of help and service to the students, their colleagues, and the institution. These differences in workplace skills affect the career transition of clinical MTs to the academy.

Gooding (2018) explored which work-life factors music therapy faculty member identified as influential on their work-life balance and success. Although her participants included senior music therapy faculty members, her study elucidated factors that heavily influenced the experiences of the MTFJ members’ transition to the academy and their first five years of work. Gooding (2018) reported about 89 participants who were predominantly female and white, with an average age of 49 years old. Two-thirds were tenured/tenure-track, and the majority worked 41 or more hours per week. Most respondents reported being somewhat or very satisfied with their current position

6 where the curriculum for music therapy programs was intense and demanding both in number of required hours and in required skills, which further illustrated the immense learning curve MTs must negotiate upon entrance to the academy. Additionally, the last factor opens the door to comparisons in workload, in productivity, in responsibilities, and in educational qualification among colleagues. The comparisons in educational qualification merit further exploration.

Differences in educational qualification may present an additional difficulty in career transition for MTs when working to develop positive relationships with their colleagues and to establish professional esteem among colleagues and administration.

Because the master’s degree is considered the terminal degree for music therapy, individuals with that single graduate degree are eligible to obtain professorships. This standard is different than many other professions and can be considered a detriment to

MTJF members who only have a master’s degree for two reasons. First, they possess fewer experiences upon which to draw for teaching, supervising, and researching – both in coursework and in clinical environments. Secondly, their lack of doctoral academic experience situates them differently than colleagues who persevered through doctoral programs, who may perceive the lack of doctoral degree to be subpar and a detriment to the academy. MTJF members (particularly those without a doctoral degree) may find themselves constantly justifying their value and knowledge and the whole of the profession of music therapy.

Lastly, one would be remiss to neglect mention of gender differences in career transition and socialization experiences. Differences in the experiences of males and females in the academy are well documented (Dallimore, 2003; Hellsten et al., 2011;

7 Reynolds, 1992). This factor is of particular interest, given that female clinical MTs out number their male counterparts at a margin of 89:11 (AMTA, 2017). This statistic, however, is less astounding when examining MTs who have made the transition to the academy, where music therapy male faculty members (includes non-tenure track and adjunct professors) number 23% (Olszewski, ongoing).

Personal Experience

I am a board-certified music therapist and an assistant professor of music therapy.

My journey to the academy is both typical and atypical. It was typical in the sense that I had only one course in graduate school that covered both teaching and supervision. It was atypical to not be employed full-time clinically when making the transition to professorship and to not intentionally seek an academic position. I experienced a gradual transition to the academy. I began as an adjunct professor for just one clinical course, then adjunct for three courses, and then became a visiting assistant professor. As a visiting assistant professor, I was responsible for teaching up to five courses and for supervising clinical work for up to eight students. I found myself going back to the resources from graduate school, 15 years prior, including McKeachie’s Teaching Tips, and to current resources on college teaching and supervision. I was fortunate to win a full-time, tenure-track position, which reduced my teaching and supervision responsibilities, but also required additional work in scholarship. Not only was I feeling inadequate as a teacher but also, I had not published or actively researched for numerous years. I really felt the lack of resources for those seeking transition to higher education, particularly in the field of music therapy.

8 Most fortunately, I had a very close colleague who had transitioned to the academy only one semester prior to hiring me to teach the one clinical course. She shared with me all that she had learned, and then we continued to learn together.

Although our positions required some different skill areas — hers as a program coordinator and mine as a clinical supervisor in the community — the learning curve was immensely steep. This learning curve included learning to negotiate the bureaucracy of the academy; learning the specific bureaucracy of our institution; negotiating roles and positions with colleagues; providing education about music therapy to all stakeholders; and weaving our past experiences as therapists with our new experiences as instructors, mentors, supervisors, advisors, and role models. We were able to brainstorm together, bounce ideas off of each other, lament losses together, and celebrate successes together. I found myself asking, “This job and all its parts are almost unmanageable. How do new professors without this type of working relationship with a close colleague manage to be successful and keep their mental and physical health?”

I felt the need to fill my gap of teaching knowledge. That pursuit led me a doctoral program focusing on adult, continuing, and higher education. I gained knowledge in adult learning theories, adult development theories, identity development, history of higher education, organizational leadership, and of course, additional research methodologies. Much of the learning supported my role as an instructor and the other learning supported my role as a researcher. Again, I found myself pondering how other music therapists fill the knowledge gap to develop functional skills as instructors and researchers. This pondering led to the development of a small pilot study regarding the experiences of MTJF members, which was a course requirement for an Advanced

9 Qualitative Research Methods course. The outcomes from that small pilot study revealed that several other MTJF members experienced many of the same feelings I had, and furthermore, indicated that there were several factors that affected how the professor participant perceived her experiences. That small pilot study was further developed into the current inquiry.

Problem

With the rapid development of music therapy programs, there is an immediate need for qualified faculty members. The American Music Therapy Association (AMTA) website advertised 16 open professorships during the fall of 2018 (AMTA, 2018). With institutions attempting to fill these positions from qualified applicant pools, there is concern throughout the profession about what makes an applicant qualified and how to better prepare incoming MTJF members for their career transition and their socialization to the academy (Music Therapy Faculty, 2018). In order to better prepare music therapists for this career transition and socialization, it is likely that improvements and modifications to the graduate music therapy curriculum are necessary; however, data are necessary to intimate and to guide those changes. These concerns illuminate the importance of understanding the lived experiences of current music therapy junior faculty

(MTJF) members. This exploration of MTJF and their lived experiences in the academy is absent from existing literature.

Purpose

The purpose of this narrative research study was to explore the lived experiences of MTJF members as they sought to become successful academicians. I defined academicians as academics who have expertise in a clinical area, such as music therapy:

10 academic + clinician = academician. Furthermore, this study aimed to weave the collected stories into data that could inform recommended changes to the music therapy graduate curriculum in order to better prepare MTs for their transition to the academy.

Research Questions

The following research questions were employed to undertake these aims:

• What are the lived experiences of MTJF members during their first five years in

the academy?

• How do MTJF members gain institutional knowledge and experience faculty

socialization as members of the academy?

• How do MTJF members view their professional identity development over time?

Narrative Design

Developing a comprehensive understanding of the individual, the lived experiences, and the context could not be done in a one-dimensional, highly controlled study. Individuals are dynamic and complex, and those qualities create the unique lived experiences that this study aimed to explore. In order for that exploration to be successful, it required an open, free (less controlled) design. Qualitative methodology was far better suited to painting the picture of the lived experiences with depth, color, and detail than quantitative methodologies.

Narrative inquiry is a qualitative methodology to understanding experiences

(Clandinin, 2013). In narrative inquiries, stories are collected and then woven together to create a larger historical context (Pinnegar & Daynes, 2007). These collected stories give the world meaning to those who have lived the experiences and who have told the stories

(Clandinin & Rosiek, 2007). These life stories are intended to convey a message or a

11 point regarding the participant’s experiences in a complex social process (Chase, 1995).

These characteristics of a narrative approach made it ideal for this study. Entrance to the academy and experiencing socialization to the academy certainly can be described as

“complex social processes.” Because experiences are different based on personalities, expectations, and institutions of employment, a narrative design was ideal as it embodied the relationship between the narrator (participant) and her/his culture (Riessman, 2008).

Clandinin (2013) further specified that narrative is not only about individuals’ experiences but also about understanding those experiences within “the social, cultural, familiar, linguistic, and institutional narratives that shape, and are shaped by, the individual” (p. 33).

The narrative approach utilizes chronology, or temporal relation of life (Creswell,

2013). Because this study aimed to track the participants’ experiences from their initial interest in MT through their first five years of employment in the academy, chronology was an organizing factor to their stories and experiences. It also established the timeline for professional identity development and socialization of the participants. Professional identity development and socialization were likely resultants of pertinent experiences.

Denzin (1989) identified these pertinent experiences as turning points.

Theoretical Framework

The theoretical framework for this inquiry was Transformative Learning Theory

(Mezirow, 1991). Transformative Learning Theory requires a process of making meaning from one’s experiences; however, the cornerstone of transformative learning is critical self-reflection that results in a transformation or change in thought, perception, or action (Mezirow & Associates, 2000; Taylor, 2008).

12 Theoretically, this inquiry generated narratives from the participants that revealed how they reflected on their experiences as they negotiated the academy and made sense out of their environment as they pursued success. Additionally, these narratives indicated how reflection on their experiences affected their personal and professional development.

The analysis revealed which experiences were reflected upon in a fashion that was more indicative of Experiential Learning Theory and which experiences were so profound that critical reflection resulted in transformation of thought, perception, or action.

Interpretive Paradigm

This study was interpreted through a social constructivist lens. Social constructivism seeks to construct knowledge (Creswell, 2013). In this paradigm, the researcher explored the varied and complex experiences of the participants rather than seeking to focus the collective experiences into narrow categories. The use of the social constructivist interpretive paradigm was justified by the aim of the present study, which was to capture the varied lived experiences of MTJF members through semi-structured interviews and to allow the codes and themes to emerge organically through an iterative process (Galletta, 2013). The Set Two interviews were conducted following the completion of the initial analysis in order to triangulate the initial categories.

Significance

This study was the first inquiry into MTJF development explored through narrative methodology and has begun to fill the paucity of literature regarding qualities, characteristics, values, and experiences of music therapy faculty members. This inquiry was a necessary first step to promoting improvement and modification to the music therapy graduate curriculum and training of future professors of music therapy.

13 Understanding 1) the experiences of MTJF members being new to the academy, 2) how they learned to be successful members of the academy, and 3) how they viewed their professional identity development during the first five years of professorship, provides a much clearer picture of how to better prepare music therapists to become professors, or at least, what the next logical inquiry must be to promote improvement and modification to their training and to the music therapy graduate curriculum.

Conclusion

Very few clinical MTs possess the educational background and training to be proficient professors upon entrance to the academy. These MTJF members experience an immense learning curve when transitioning from the clinical arena to the academy. That burden could be reduced by improvements and modifications to the music therapy graduate curriculum, but data were necessary to detail subjects’ experiences and to guide recommended changes.

Through the participation of seven MTJF members in semi-structured interviews and through the participation of two an additional MTJF members in the Set Two triangulating interviews, this study aimed to collect the narratives of their lived experiences during their first five years in the academy. Based on Transformative

Learning Theory (Mezirow, 1991) and being interpreted through a social constructivism paradigm, this study intended to understand the lived experiences of MTJF members, to learn how they gain institutional knowledge, to understand how they view their professional identity development over time, and to weave their collected stories into data necessary to validate proposals to changes in educational preparation, particularly graduate school experiences, of future music therapy professors.

14 Definitions

Academician - academics who have expertise in clinical areas: academic + clinician =

academician.

Academy – the collective of institutions of higher education.

Assistant Professor – the lowest rank of professor, which indicates the individual has not

yet earned tenure

Associate Professor – the middle rank of professor, which indicates that the individual

has earned tenure

Board-certified music therapist – individual who completed an approved music therapy

program and who passed the national board certification exam for music

therapists

Carnegie Classification© - the classification system for institutions of higher education,

which is based the number and types of degrees conferred and by the amount of

money spent in research expenditures

Clinical faculty – faculty members who are hired to teach and supervise students enrolled

in practica or in the clinics associated with the institutions

Clinical music skills – music skills such as guitar, keyboard, percussion, and voice that

are used during the therapeutic application of music by a board-certified music

therapist

Collective bargaining agreement – a document shared between an employees’ union and

an institution stating policies of employment, compensation, and grievance.

Duel-capacity – type of faculty appointment that encompasses both academic and clinical

responsibilities

15 Faculty status – the rank of position that the professor holds

Full professor – highest rank of professor

Master’s Degree – the first level of graduate study

MTJF – Music therapy junior faculty

Nontraditional student – a college student who did not enter college after the completion

of high school. These students have gained different experiences during the time

between the completion of high school and entering the system of higher

education. These students may include, but are not limited to veterans, second-

career students, young parents, AmeriCorps or Peace Corps volunteers, and others

who pursued work before attending college.

PhD – Doctor of Philosophy degree, the highest academic degree one can earn

Practica – plural form of practicum

Practicum – clinical course offered through approved program where students practice

clinical intervention skills and develop clinical music skills.

Scholarship – Research that is distributed through publication, presentation, or

performance.

Tenure – the promise of perpetual employment (excepting dire circumstances or

dismissal due to ethical infraction) and the protection of academic freedom

Tenure guidelines – stated expectations that must be met in order for an assistant

professor to be promoted to associate professor with tenure.

Traditional student – a college student who entered higher education immediately

following the completion of their high school education

CHAPTER II

REVIEW OF LITERATURE

With the rapid development of music therapy programs creating an immediate need for qualified faculty members, it is important to understand the lived experiences of current music therapy junior faculty (MTJF) members in order to better prepare future music therapy professors for their transition to the academy. For music therapists (MTs) to be successful in their career transition from the clinical arena to the academy, improvements and modifications to the graduate music therapy curriculum are likely necessary. Data are essential to intimate and to guide those changes. Currently, there is little exploration of music therapy faculty and their lived experiences in the academy, and there are no studies currently published that address the specific experiences of MTJF members and their transition to the academy. The purpose of this narrative research study was to explore the lived experiences of MTJF members as they sought to become successful academicians. This narrative study sought to collect stories of the lived experiences of MTFJ members and to weave the collected stories into data to validate suggested changes to music therapy graduate curriculum in order to better prepare MTs for transition into the academy. The following research questions guided the collection of these narratives:

17 • What are the lived experiences of MTJF members during their first five years in

the academy?

• How do MTJF members gain institutional knowledge and experience faculty

socialization as members of the academy?

• How do MTJF members view their professional identity development over time?

This inquiry followed a small pilot study, which was completed during an advanced qualitative methodologies doctoral course. That small pilot study included similar research questions, and the themes which emerged from that study contributed to the topics reported within this review of literature. Additional literature from numerous professions, particularly professions where there is clinical/professional expertise prior to entrance into the academy, is also included. Particular areas of interest in reviewing literature include professionalization of music therapy, hierarchy and structure of the academy, faculty socialization, career transition, professional identity development, and music therapy faculty perspectives.

Professionalization of Music Therapy

History of music therapy. Artifacts from ancient civilizations indicate that healing rituals utilized music as early as 5000 BC (Solanki, Zafar, & Rastogi, 2013). In ancient Greece, the term “ethos” described how music was thought to generate and communicate emotional and mental states (Anderson & Mathiesen, 2001). Specific patterns and sequences of musical notes, called scales, were believed to elicit the mind and emotions into certain states. Because of these beliefs, certain scales were recommended for or prohibited from various populations (young women) or situations

(joyous rituals). As knowledge and medicine advanced through time, developing into the

18 theory of the four cardinal humors, music continued to be an integral treatment for maladies by working to put these humors back into alignment (Solanki, et al., 2013).

Early publications. During industrialization with advancements in publishing, information, ideas, and theses were more easily distributed. In the very late 1700s, papers regarding the therapeutic application of music began to surface. The earliest two publications describing the therapeutic use of music were penned anonymously. The first appeared in Columbian Magazine in 1789 and the second in 1796 in New York Weekly

Magazine (Heller, 1987). Shortly thereafter, Edwin Atlee and Samuel Mathews wrote their medical school dissertations on the use of music in medicine in 1804 and 1806, respectively. Both dissertations described varying aspects of the therapeutic application of music, particularly citing Benjamin Rush, a professor at the University of

Pennsylvania and a physician/psychiatrist (Davis, Gfeller, & Kahler, 2018).

Sometime later, George Alder Blumer, a prominent mental health reformer, supported the therapeutic application of music in the treatment of mental health. In 1892,

Blumer published the article, “Music in its Relation to the Mind” in the American

Journal of Insanity described his thoughts regarding the topic (Davis, 1987). Blumer thought it was nearly impossible to determine how music elicited its therapeutic effects.

He believed it futile to attempt to analyze rhythm, harmony, melody, and tempo as it would be unreasonable to attribute values to any one or all of the elements eliciting the effects (Davis, 1987). Blumer founded the first ongoing music therapy program in an

American hospital when he hired musicians to play at Utica State Hospital.

Early practitioners and educators. Eva Augusta Vescelius studied “mental therapy” and the therapeutic application of music. She shared her work through papers

19 and lectures, and she established the National Society for Musical Therapeutics in 1903.

She taught classes about music therapy from a studio in Carnegie Hall, from which she also offered piano and voice lessons. Vescelius also established the first music therapy publication, Music and Health in 1913 (Davis, 1993). Her philosophy of music therapy stressed the importance of cooperation between the power of the mind and the music in treatment, both mental and physical. She believed that the therapist should be neutral and not a key component in the therapeutic process. Vescelius taught that tonality, rhythm, and composition were all important elements of music in its therapeutic application. She asserted that rhythm was the most important element of the curative properties

(Vescelius, 1918).

In 1919, Margaret Anderton organized and taught the first courses in music therapy (titled “musicotherapy”) at Columbia University (Davis, Gfeller, & Kahler,

2018). She was a trained pianist and had worked with Canadian WWI soldiers and veterans. Anderton stated, “it is the object of the course to cover the psychophysiological action of music and to provide practical training for therapeutic treatment under medical control” (“Columbia University to Heal Wounded by Music,” 1919, p. 59). Anderton also promoted teaching two methods of application. The first was for the therapist to provide the music (involving mental health treatment), and the second was to have the patient play the music (involving physical rehabilitation treatment) (Davis, Gfeller, &

Kahler, 2018). These two types of delivery are still considerations in current practice but are now referred to as passive versus active therapeutic components. In contrast to

Vescelius, Anderton favored specific instruments for their timbre, which she believed to

20 produce healing effects (Taylor, 1981); however, Anderton agreed with Vescelius that the therapist’s role in the therapeutic process is neutral.

Isa Maud Ilsen studied nursing in undergraduate and became interested in the use of music to treat both physical and mental disorders. Like Anderton, Ilsen worked with returning WWI vets who had surgical, medical, corrective, and reconstruction needs. In addition to all of the typical “ills” of which music had been used to address, Ilsen added the use of music in places of employment with difficult working conditions (Davis,

1993). She asserted she developed a method for treating both mental and physical illnesses with the precision of surgery or medicine. In 1919, Ilsen changed focus and accepted a position at Columbia University with Anderton. She graduated 12 therapists in her first class, who went on to use her methods in surrounding institutions (Davis,

1993). Ilsen established rules of conduct and other guidelines for music therapy practice in the hospitals, which seem to be the first set of clinical guidelines for clinical music therapy practice. Ilsen insisted programs: 1) use trained professionals, 2) use a variety of music in conjunction with other creative therapies, 3) not use music pitched in a minor key, 4) not use songs with sad lyrics, 5) use short and cheerful tunes, 6) not use too classical of music, and 7) use jazz “…sparingly if at all” (Davis, 1993, p. 40). Unlike

Vescelius and Anderton, Ilsen thought the therapist was a key component to the therapeutic process. Ilsen established expectations of professional dispositions, of rapport establishment, and of unconditional acceptance of clients. Her theoretical belief was that the body, when healthy, was in perfect rhythm with itself. Out of rhythmic sync systems presented as illnesses (Davis & Gfeller, 2008).

21 Harriet Ayer Seymour studied music at the best institutions, both in the United

States and abroad. Her informal music therapy training began by testing her ideas out on friends at home. Following what she considered successes there, Seymour extended those experiments to a wide range of clientele at local hospitals and institutions. She shared her ideas and methods through her writings, especially her chapter, “Music and

Health” in her book, What Music Can Do for You, penned in 1920. She also circulated her theories of mental healing at a meeting of the New Thought Alliance in New York

City and at the Panel Discussion of 1937 (details forthcoming). At this panel discussion,

Seymour defined music therapy, “musical therapy means the use of sound that will stimulate and cheer or soothe and allay pain as the case may be” (p. 6). She also stated that there was much to learn about music therapy and articulated the necessity for better training of clinicians. She believed that there would eventually “be schools of musical therapy” (p. 7). In 1941, Seymour established the National Foundation of Musical

Therapy. Through this foundation, she trained clinicians and published a textbook devoted to music therapy clinical practice, entitled An Instruction Course in the Use and

Practice of Musical Therapy. In this textbook, Seymour detailed what she believed to be appropriate application of music with chapters devoted to different populations, such as children, mental hospitals, tubercular hospitals, etc. Like Ilsen, Seymour believed that the therapist and the therapist’s interpersonal skills were key to the therapeutic process, and even stated that the therapist needed to have an interest in becoming a “channel for the music to be an effective therapeutic treatment” (de l’Etoile, 2000). However, unlike

Ilsen and Vescelius, Seymour believed that individuals with only basic music skills could be therapeutically effective; in other words, therapists need not be expertly trained in

22 musical arts. She believed that music was taught in a too mechanical fashion and that individuals needed to be more fluid in their musicianship to meet the needs of her preferred improvisational style of music therapy (Davis, 1997). Similar to Vescelius’s power of the mind, Seymour believed that “constructive thought” in conjunction with music was the key to therapeutic effectiveness. She also believed certain elements of music to promote healing for specific populations. Seymour, like Ilsen, specifically described the use of rhythm for several populations, but she furthered the idea by describing the use of different genre and patient-familiar songs (Davis, 1997) for music therapy clientele. Whereas most practitioners of music therapy were loath to describe how the music elicited therapeutic responses, Seymour posited her theory that sound traveled by waves, which activated nerves to carry vibrations to the spine and other structures and that the body, itself, served as a sound chamber for vibrations that calmed, reduced tension, and/or stimulated the systems (Davis, 1997). It is believed that Seymour trained approximately 500 students in music therapy between 1941 and 1944 (Davis,

Gfeller, & Kahler, 2018).

The profession advanced during the Depression through the Federal Music

Project (FMP), a project under the Works Progress Administration. This project, which employed professional actors, writers, artists, and musicians, had two tasks: provide employment for qualified professionals and provide services to the community, both performances and participation. [It is of interesting note that Nicolai Sokoloff, who had been the Cleveland Orchestra’s director for over 15 years, was selected to head the music project.] (Bindas, 1988). Many of the music therapy programs took place in New York

City, and piggybacked on established programs, such as Ilsen’s and Seymour’s; however,

23 other programs developed in Florida, Massachusetts, Michigan, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and Minnesota (Canon, 1963).

A panel discussion, sponsored by the FMP in 1937, boasted presenters who became major players in the proliferation and professionalization of music therapy.

Willem van de Wall, was one of the panel speakers. He was also the author of Music in

Institutions (1936), one of the leading books of the time on music therapy, opened the discussion by historically defining the difference between music education and music therapy. His definition of music therapy emphasized the concern for the needs of the client. He continued that treatment needed to be referred and led by physicians and institution heads, which was likely due to the lack of professional training for music therapists at that time. Van de Wall’s philosophy of music therapy included the understanding of music in relation to medical and social treatment and to include the client in the treatment process (Panel Discussion, 1937).

College programs develop. In 1940, Roy Underwood was hired as the music department chairman at Michigan State College. He had previously been employed at the

University of Kansas as an associate professor of piano and had been a friend to E.

Thayer Gaston (Fickett, 2002). It is likely this friendship and keen awareness for the growth potential of music therapy as a profession that motivated Underwood to establish the first official music therapy curriculum, which culminated in a bachelor’s degree in music therapy in 1944. Underwood worked with other professionals, both music scholars with interest in the therapeutic application of music and psychology, to establish the program (AMTA, 2017). Dr. Ira Altshuler, a well-known psychiatrist, who utilized

24 music therapy agreed to host and support the first music therapy internship, which was associated with Wayne County Hospital (de l’Etoile, 2000).

Ira Altshuler was not only a consultant for Underwood in establishing the program at Michigan State University but also trained and supervised numerous of the first music therapy interns. Personally, Altshuler was a psychiatrist and musician, who received national and international respect for his clinical work and research accomplishments (Davis, 2003). Detroit’s Eloise Hospital (later named Wayne County

Hospital) was where Altshuler established one of America’s first significant music therapy programs. Altshuler believed that music originated as a primitive signal for danger; he further believed that humans developed emotional reactions to music (Davis,

2003). Based on that belief, Altshuler posited that music could profoundly affect emotions when properly used. Altshuler designed group treatment methods combining psychoanalytic and music techniques. He recommended the Iso Principle (Davis, 2003), where the current mood state of the patient is matched with an analogous style of music and then by altering rhythm, tempo, dynamics, and melody, the patient’s mood is moved to a more desirable state. The Iso-principle is still current practice in music therapy.

In 1946, E. Thayer Gaston, the director of the department of music at the University of Kansas, created a program of graduate study in the psychology of music and the influence of music on human behavior (Boxburger, 1963; Miller, 1998). During the era of music therapy professionalization, it was rare for Gaston to not be involved. He chaired The Music Educators National Conference’s Special Committee on Functional

Music among, holding many other positions. Due to his involvement, foresight, intellect, mentoring, and teaching, Gaston’s colleagues deemed him the “father of music therapy”

25 (Johnson, 1981, p. 279). Gaston devised the term “functional music,” which referred to the use of music as a stimulus or a control measure to achieve a predetermined response

(Gaston, 1948). Many current programs still teach many of Gaston’s philosophies of music therapy, in particular, his beliefs that 1) “the functional nature of music should receive greater consideration than its aesthetic value,” (de l’Etoile, 2000, p. 60); 2)

“Music is always secondary to the improvement of the patient,” (Gaston, 1948, p. 48); and 3) he believed music was a “structured reality” from which everyone could benefit, saying “All mankind has a need for aesthetic expression and experience” (Harvey, 1980).

Gaston promoted the effectiveness of music elements over the role of the therapist

(Miller, 1998).

Current education in music therapy. The American Music Therapy Association

(AMTA) is responsible for the programs and curricula in approved collegiate music therapy programs. The accepted framework for music therapy in current practice is that music therapy is the clinical, evidence-based, intentional application of the functional elements of music to address individualized goals within a therapeutic relationship by a board-certified music therapist. Music therapists actively create, apply, and manipulate various music elements through live, improvised, adapted, individualized, and/or recorded music to address physical, emotional, cognitive, and social needs of individuals of all ages and of all abilities.

The required education for music therapists includes approximately 128 credit hours.

The required coursework includes typical liberal arts coursework and then specific areas of study in music (both theory and performance), psychology (both normal and abnormal), development, anatomy, and ethnomusicology. After successful completion of

26 all coursework, students are required to interview for and to win a 6-month, full-time internship. This internship requires 1040 hours of additional supervised clinical training.

With successful completion of the internship, students earn a Bachelor of Music (a handful of programs confer a Bachelor of Arts or Bachelor of Science) degree and the right to sit for the national certification board exam. It is important to note that receipt of board certification and the bachelor’s degree demonstrate that one is an entry-level, general practitioner. Additional training is necessary to gain qualification to work with several clinical populations.

Hierarchy and Structure of the Academy

Faculty development, or professionalization, in higher education began when

Harvard College was founded in the American Colonies in 1635 (Cohen & Kisker, 2010) and continued to develop as American higher education developed (Schuster &

Finkelstein, 2006). As colleges and universities grew in number and esteem, faculty needed to become more specialized and more involved in the promotion of the institution at which they were employed. These forms of development allowed for institutions to promote themselves as more exclusive, and therefore, superior to other institutions

(Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006; Cohen & Kisker, 2010; Lovett, 1993; Emerson, 1838;

Finkelstein, 1983). As institutions grew into large enterprises, departments were established that would require leadership. This leadership was frequently sought from the existing faculty; however, additional education and/or training in administrative responsibilities would be necessary in order to be the best candidate for this role and promotion.

27 Historical context of academy development. Since the establishment of

Harvard University in 1635, the professoriate has continued to develop and to further professionalize. During the Emergent Nation Era (1790-1869) of higher education, the professoriate greatly developed. At the beginning of the 1800s, tutors outnumbered professors; however, a mere 25 years later, professors outnumbered tutors by a 3:1 ratio

(Cohen & Kisker, 2010). There was a shift in societal belief toward professorship being a laudable profession (Emerson, 1838). Professorships were largely the result of philanthropic donations, fostering instruction of advanced skills in mathematics, natural science, and the arts. Lovett (1993) indicated that this movement toward a better-trained, more specialized professoriate resulted from a change in focus toward professors preparing students for careers outside of clergy and for an American citizenship.

Teaching advanced skills also prompted additional training and education for the professoriate (Geiger, 1986).

Differentiation and the University Transformation Era (1870-1944) are virtually synonymous. Differentiation among institutions existed; differentiation of the hours spent teaching and research existed; differentiation of specializations blossomed into departments and additional administrative offices; and differentiation of responsibilities, governance, and philosophies (especially academic freedom) based on these other changes at institutions triggered in the establishment of the American Association of

University Professors in 1915 (Cohen & Kisker, 2010). Differentiation of rank among professors also developed during this era. This differentiation is now firmly entrenched in the academy. Rankings of faculty members from instructor through assistant professor, associate professor, and to full professor echo in the hallways of the ivory

28 tower. Current standards dictate that junior faculty members are assistant professors who are on the track to earning tenure. Associate professor suggests tenure has been earned.

Full professor implies that the individual’s productivity establishes her/him as highly respected and firmly established in her/his area of expertise. Many universities are utilizing additional position titles such as professors of practice, lecturers, and adjunct professors. Professors of practice and college lecturers are almost always full-time positions and frequently have opportunities for promotion (many also assistant, associate, and full); however, these positions are very rarely tenured. Adjunct positions generally imply part-time work and no opportunity for promotion.

During the University Transformation Era, the philosophy that professors should divide their time between teaching and research came to exist (Cohen & Kisker, 2010).

Due to the history of the professoriate having always been upstanding citizens and active in their communities, it is significant to note that the third (present day) obligatory category of “service” was already a thread in the philosophy of professional responsibilities, although not expressly stated. The expectations of hours in the classroom versus research time differentiated undergraduate faculty from graduate faculty and one position/department from another, also. At the start of this era, research was second priority to teaching, but during the course of this era, that focus began to shift.

The differentiation of roles at the university that resulted in the establishment of the American Association of University Professors (AAUP), not only highlighted differing opinions on academic freedom, but also on the merit of tenure, job rights, governance, sabbatical leaves, and further specialization. Further specialization is

29 particularly notable during this era, as it saw the formation of most of the professional associations to date including but not limited to the Modern Language Association, the

American Historical Association, the American Chemical Society, and the National

Council of Teachers of English (Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006).

One last interesting fact emanating from this era is that the professional “family tree” was becoming very narrow. By 1930, between fifty and seventy-five percent of professors were employed at the institutions where they had completed their graduate training (Geiger, 1986). This incestuous hiring process stemmed from the differentiation of faculty status. Graduate students frequently remained in the employ of the university until a junior faculty position opened, and they were able to use the senior faculty as references for their hire (Cohen & Kisker, 2010). This concept of ranking stemmed from the AAUP’s 1940 Statement of Principle, with its principle interest in promoting and defining the tenure process. It is notable that this issue was and continues to be an immense concern. Earning tenure is still considered the “gold standard” for an academic.

This process played a role in the professionalization of the professoriate, as it allowed for the professoriate to police itself; it allowed for incompetent instructors/researchers to be removed from the academic ranks (Cohen & Kisker, 2010). These policing abilities may have promoted the professionalization of university instructors, but it also may have established the rift among faculty ranks.

The professoriate continued to professionalize during the Mass Higher Education

Era (1945-1975) and through the Era of Consolidation (1976-1993). The greatest concerns for students and institutions during these eras included the large number of incoming students, access, and equality. However, toward the end of these periods, the

30 structure of the academy was challenged throughout the court systems due to the differentiation that took place decades before. The differentiation led to different standards and expectations that were not clearly defined at the time of hire for many junior faculty members. One of the principal issues in the court system revolved around productivity and determining tenure. After the Ohio Supreme Court ruled that records regarding decisions made about tenure should be open and public, an examination of these records revealed that research, external funding through grants, and the number of publications played a far larger role in the decisions than those categories should have.

There was a concern that merit for teaching excellence was not appropriately awarded or considered (Lederman & Mooney, 1995). An agreement on how to measure and rate productivity was not realized during this era; however, the issue settled with different institutions (even departments within an institution) having different requirements regarding productivity. This settlement seemed to appease most of the professoriate, as

Cohen and Kisker (2010) stated that many studies suggested that “faculty derive satisfaction from the work they do, the autonomy they enjoy, their own activities; dissatisfaction relates to extrinsic demands, administrative intrusion on their workspace, and the salary they receive,” (p. 363).

Current context of academy development. Current practices in higher education maintain the triad of expectation: research, teaching, and service. Depending at which type of institution one is employed and to what type of position one is hired, the ratio of the three entities will vary. The classification of institutions began with the

Carnegie Commission on Higher Education in 1970 (The Carnegie Classification of

Institutions of Higher Education, n.d.). The commission developed the classification

31 system to support its program of research and policy analysis. The Carnegie

Classification® (now managed by Indiana University Center for Postsecondary Research) has been the seminal resource in higher education for recognizing and describing institutional diversity in the United States since 1970. The classification system is utilized to represent and to control for institutional differences, and also to assist in the design of research studies to ensure adequate representation of sampled institutions, students, or faculty (The Carnegie Classification of Institutions of Higher Education

(n.d.). Many individuals make the mistake that the system is a form of ranking, rather than mere classification.

Classification of institutions is made by the number and types of degrees conferred and by the amount of money spent in research expenditures. For example, institutions what awarded at least 20 research/scholarship doctoral degrees (some additional specifications) and had at least $5 million in total research expenditures were classified as “doctoral universities” and from there, the amount of scholarly productivity further classifies the institutions. Institutions with “very high research activity” are classified as Research I institutions, frequently referred to as R1s. Doctoral institutions with “high research activity” are classified as R2s. Other classification categories include

Doctoral/Professional Universities (D/PU), Master’s Colleges and Universities,

Baccalaureate Colleges, Baccalaureate/Associate’s Colleges, Associate’s Colleges,

Special Focus Institutions, and Tribal Colleges (The Carnegie Classification of

Institutions of Higher Education, n.d.).

For professors employed at institutions rated by the Carnegie Classification® as

R1s, their research is far more heavily weighted and valued than is time spent on teaching

32 and service, whereas, teaching and/or service will be highly valued at institutions otherwise classified. An applicant must be highly aware of the institution’s classification if s/he is to fully comprehend what expectations may come with the position s/he is seeking.

Faculty Socialization

Professional socialization entails the development of specialized knowledge and skills, development of a sense of occupational identity, internalization of the norms of the profession, and incorporation of those norms into one’s behaviors and into one’s personal identity (Bierema, 2010). Furthermore, “professional socialization causes a new identity to emerge…” (Bierema, 2010, p. 138). When a person enters into a new appointment in the academy, s/he is tasked with developing the identity of an “academic.”

Acculturation. Developing the identity of an “academic” requires acculturation to the academy. Acculturation requires modification to social, psychological, and cultural processes in order to adapt to a prevailing, dominant culture. The Center for

Advanced Research on Language Acquisition (2018) defined culture in the following way:

Culture is defined as the shared patterns of behaviors and interaction, cognitive

constructs, and affective understanding that are learned through a process of

socialization. These shared patterns identify the members of a culture group

while also distinguishing those of another group. (n.p.)

Lederach’s (1995) definition is similar: “Culture is the shared knowledge and schemes created by a set of people for perceiving, interpreting, expressing, and responding to the social realities around them" (p. 9). Shared knowledge and schemes of the academy

33 include understanding of institutional policies, institutional practices, professional responsibilities, productivity expectations, research practices, publication practices, teaching practices, grant seeking practices, institutional history, and proper chain of command. The type of academic appointment affects which of these schemes are most pertinent to the new professor. The letter of appointment, along with the contract (either union or institutional, depending on whether or not a union is present at the institution), likely define broad expectations for several areas of practice; however, the idiom “the devil is in the details” illustrates where new faculty members experience the most difficulty. These details are frequently revealed as deadlines loom and inquiring emails from the higher-ups are sent questioning where a particular report is or when they should expect a file to be sent. For example, the tenure-track junior faculty member is responsible for assembling and submitting a dossier (a comprehensive report of progress, which usually includes multiple sections, each with statements, reports, and attachments) for third-, fifth-, and tenure-review. This responsibility is made very clear, usually in the letter of appointment and at every step of orientation. However, one might believe that the third-year review would take place after three years of progress; however, that individual would be incorrect. The dossier is due at the beginning of the third year, not during or at the end of the third year. A new faculty member would have needed to know where to find that detail or would have had to have been told that detail directly.

The tenets for earning tenure frequently dictate how junior faculty members allocate their time. Most tenure-track appointments require a trifurcation of workload efforts among research, teaching, and service (Woods, 2006). The percentage of effort toward each area varies with institution and, again, with the type of appointment. In

34 order to earn tenure, junior faculty members must meet expectations across those areas, as judged by their institutional colleagues and by outside reviewers (Harley, Krzys

Acord, & Earl-Novell, 2010). This tenet merits additional emphasis on two points: first, because it directly relates to the relationships that junior faculty members establish at their institutions and secondly, because the expectations may be hidden in the details of policies or opinions rather than straightforwardly stated. For example, one department or college within an institution may have one expectation for the number publications required in the scholarship category and another department or college may have a different expectation (Harley et al., 2010). The same difference may exist for each category on which the tenure candidate is judged. These difficulties in possessing all of the requisite knowledge to be a successful academic have led to a great deal of literature calling for transparency to processes such as tenure and promotion (Harley et al., 2010;

Reddick, 2015; Smith, Hollerbach, Donato, Edlund, Atz, & Kelechi, 2016; Woods,

2006).

Interpersonal interactions and relationships. As new faculty members navigate the treacherous terrain of the academy, they gain both encouraging and challenging experiences with the bureaucracy, administration, senior faculty members, junior faculty colleagues, and staff. These experiences all contribute to the socialization of the new faculty member to the academy. Through their study about mentorship in the facilitation of faculty socialization, Cawyer, Simonds, and Davis (2002) identified five characteristics of relationships that impacted faculty socialization. These characteristics included “(1) interpersonal bonding (affirming new faculty), (2) social support

(emotional care), (3) professional advice (exposing departmental workings), (4)

35 institutional history (knowing the dirty laundry of the organization), and (5) accessibility

(new hires feeling they can seek information from senior colleagues)” (p. 235).

Interpersonal bonding, social support, and professional advice (Cawyer et al.,

2002) are all related to the types of relationships that new faculty members establish with colleagues, both those in the same rank and those with more experience, i.e. senior faculty members. Ponjuan, Martin Conley, and Trower (2011) concurred, stating that junior faculty members are socialized into the institution through their interaction with colleagues, particularly senior faculty members. Interpersonal professional relationships at work largely contribute to how junior faculty perceive, reflect on, and interpret their experiences (Cawyer et al, 2002). The existing literature is rich with examples of how professional relationships affect the socialization of junior faculty members.

In a 2012 autoethnography by Jubas, she described her journey from a small community-based organization employee to university staff member to student to “one of them” (p. 29), referring to academics. In her conclusion, she described colleagues who share and guide newcomers to the academy and others who are guarded and uninterested in newcomers. She further suggested that the individuals with whom a junior faculty member socializes will likely affect her/his socialization experience. Reynolds (1992) drew similar conclusions. She stated that in order to understand the acculturation and socialization processes of the academy, the experiences of new faculty must be explored, particularly those experiences with colleagues. She concluded that all junior faculty members go through changes to self; however, those changes are individual and unique and are frequently affected by colleagues. Reddick (2015) described his socialization to the academy through his experiences and interactions with colleagues and likened the

36 socialization of junior faculty members to the socialization of feral children. He described three types of relationships with colleagues that contributed to his personal socialization: “mentoring-at-a-distance,” “troll models,” and “cheerleaders.” Mentoring- at-a-distance colleagues described scholar colleagues from various institutions who invested in Riddick’s success and supported his career from a distance. Troll models labeled colleagues who modeled what not do (generally at his institution), and

Cheerleaders described colleagues of similar rank (also at his institution) who supported him and emphasized the importance of his persisting in academia.

Junior faculty members may not fully comprehend the numerous factors that affect these professional relationships and interactions. Scholarship regarding professional interactions and relationships in higher education rarely neglects mention of the tension in relationships between faculty members and between faculty members and administrators; however, existing literature also rarely neglects to describe how influential positive, mentoring relationships are to new faculty members.

Historical context of tense relationships. One reoccurring point of contention among faculty members and administrations is the purpose of higher education and the role of professors in the development of students. Prior to the Era of Mass Higher

Education of the 1940s and 1950s, most colleges and universities heavily promoted classical liberal arts education; however, the purpose of higher education quickly changed as students sought purposeful training to support their needs to meet the changing demands of industry (Cohen & Kisker, 2010). These demands from students led to career-oriented curriculum and job-ready graduates. In 1998, Finkelstein, Seal, and

Shuster contended program trends suggested large gains for professional and

37 occupational majors and large losses for liberal arts-based majors. These trends toward career-ready graduates are in direct conflict with the view that higher education’s purpose is to teach thinking and classical liberal education.

This issue remains a point of dispute today. The Contemporary Era in to the present (1994-2018) could be termed the “ization” era of higher education, as it is characterized by corporatization (Altbach, 2016a; Altbach, 2016b; Cohen & Kisker,

2010; Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006; Tuchman, 2009) privatization (Altbach, 2016b;

Cohen & Kisker, 2010; Schuster & Finkelstein, 2006); and “vocationalization” (Altbach,

2016b, p. 200). These three contemporary trends lend themselves to the career-oriented education of students in higher education and away from the classic liberal arts education.

Economic stakeholders continue to seek the most job-ready, most qualified applicants when hiring and have grave influence over collegiate curricula (Nussbaum, 2010). This practice is extremely common in new technologies, which continue to transform and demand constant learning (Altbach, 2016b). This shift away from classic liberal arts education is being fought against by philosophers and professors such as Martha

Nussbaum. In her book, Not for Profit: Why Democracy Needs the Humanities,

Nussbaum (2010) argued that liberal arts education is necessary for the development of global citizenship. She further posited that global citizenship is developed through critical thinking, play, empathy, and imagination. Regarding the skills developed in higher education, Nussbaum would argue that it is imperative for university students to develop skills in critical thinking, transcending local loyalties, approaching global problems with the awareness of the whole, and developing social perspective

(considering the experiences of others). These skills are developed through curricula

38 which require active learning, Socratic learning, critical thinking, and debate. Other prominent educator-philosophers who strongly support(ed) strong liberal arts education include Dewey, Mann, and Lippmann (Nussbaum, 2010).

Differences in educational priority result in differences in values within the academy. Winter and O’Donohue (2012) conducted a survey about identity tensions in the academy and which values really matter. They received 186 responses from full-time teaching and research academics. The responses led to the conclusions that “Aligning values and goals under some unifying corporate vision is fraught with difficulty in this multiple-identity environment…” (p. 566) and that “educational principles should stand above market principles and business interest should not be allowed to determine primarily what knowledge needs to be kept, transferred or intellectually valued in higher education” (p. 572). They further stated professors who have strong senses of professional identity fear that corporatization of the academy is “a deliberate attempt to commodify education and reduce knowledge itself to narrow outcomes that can be exchanged for economic gain” (Winter & O’Donohue, 2012, p. 567).

Altbach (2016b) described a trend about changes to faculty hiring and teaching practices resulting from the expectation that graduating students will be “job ready” for positions in business and industry. This trend is frequently described using the term

“workforce development,” yet another testament to the corporatization of the academy.

Faculty who can support this trend (e.g. clinical experts transitioning to the academy) are at the front of hiring preferences, and faculty who support general liberal arts education are falling behind this trend, which can lead to tension in the workplace.

Collegiate music therapy students create a conundrum regarding this point of

39 contention in the academy, further complicating the socialization of MTJF members.

First, the training of future music therapists is in directly related to professional and occupational development, which firmly places MTJF members on the side of corporatization, privatization, and vocationalization. Furthermore, music therapy programs are developing at an astonishing rate and are intense in the coursework required of students. These intense requirements are in place in order to produce practice-ready clinical music therapists upon completion of their degree. Additionally, this intensity of coursework may lead to music therapy faculty advocating for a reduction in general education requirements, which may place the music therapy faculty members at odds with their liberal arts colleagues. However, on the contrary side, music therapists must be competent in developing rapport and unconditional positive regard for their clients.

Empathy, altruism, problem solving, and social positioning are highly regarded in the practice of music therapy (Gfeller & Davis, 2008), which then situates MTJF members solidly on the side of supporting classic liberal arts education. Additionally, most music therapy programs are housed in departments and schools of music, within colleges of liberal arts and sciences. MTJF members find themselves at the center of this contentious issue, which creates a complex dynamic when establishing relationships with colleagues.

Contemporary academic incivility. These differing philosophies can result in not only hostile workplace climates, but also in bullying and what is now termed “academic incivility.” Academic incivility includes rude and disrespectful behaviors that result in psychological, physiological, and physical harm, or the threat thereof (Clark, Olender,

Kenski, & Cardoni, 2013). According to Wright and Hill (2015) many different behaviors constitute academic incivility, such as behaviors that range from passive

40 aggressive, non-direct, ambiguous comments to outright and repeated severe behaviors that are harmful, either physically, psychologically, emotionally or professionally. Reio and Ghosh (2009) stated, “uncivil behavior at work . . . results in toxic work environments not conducive to employee learning and development” (p. 238), further supporting the notion that negative interactions with colleagues may have a profound effect on the socialization of junior faculty members.

Aside from the differences in philosophical belief over the purpose of higher education, other researchers have identified additional factors that may lead to strained interactions among professionals in the academy. Gravois (2006) reported in addition to philosophical difference, incivility occurs more often at institutions in which long-time employees (e.g. administration or senior faculty) have high job security and where there are few objective measures of performance (lack of transparency in the tenure process).

According to Cohen and Kisker (2010), power differentials resulting from roles and positions such as serving on faculty senate and chairing committees, (generally positions held by senior faculty members) where decisions regarding futures of programs and dissemination of funds are made, may contribute to conflicts and tensions in workplace interactions. Clark et al. (2013) described additional motivations for the perpetration of incivilities among all faculty members: professional jealousy; unclear, amplified, competing, and/or overly demanding work expectations; low salaries and salary compression; the need to adopt new technologies; stressful, volatile work settings; increased demand for research and grant productivity, competition for scarce resources; and pursuit of professional advancement. Another factor that may negatively impact workplace relationships is the escalation of productivity expectations. As funding has

41 decreased, institutions of higher education have increased workload expectations on full- time faculty. These increased expectations generally fall in the teaching and advising categories of workload or in acquiring administrative duties. Although, some universities have moved to expectations of self-funding research through 100% grant-funded positions, which require the professors to obtain their entire salary and research funds through external funding (Cohen & Kisker, 2010). These increased expectations have faculty members focused on their own careers, resulting in fewer professors who focus on student and/or departmental needs, thereby decreasing faculty cooperation and breeding resentment (Wright & Hill, 2015). These expectations may also reduce interest of senior faculty members to spend time and efforts mentoring new professors and acculturating them to the academy.

Mentorship. While a great deal of extant literature reports incivility among faculty, there is an equal, if not greater, amount of literature detailing positive relationships and interactions in the academy, many referring to positive mentoring relationships (Bowman, Mazerolle, & Kilbourne, 2018; Mazerolle, Nottingham,

Coleman, 2018; Sheridan, Murdoch, & Harder, 2015; Waddell, Martin, Schwind, &

Lapum, 2016). Hansman (2016) traced the definition of workplace mentoring from Kram in 1985, who described mentoring as an intense relationship between an experienced colleague and a less experienced colleague to promote professional and/or psychosocial support, to more recent definitions that specify contexts, skill areas, and types of learning.

Mentoring may be formal or informal in nature. Informal mentoring takes place when a mentor and a mentee agree to cooperate on shared interests and goals, and formal mentoring takes place when institutions implement programs where senior employees

42 develop newer employees. Frequently, formal mentoring programs aim to promote accelerated workplace learning while building learning communities to “enhance organizational learning and professional development” (Hansman, 2016, p. 34); however,

Hansman (2016) noted that formal mentoring programs may be problematic due to power differentials, discrimination, and generational differences.

Common mentoring relationships in higher education consist of a senior faculty member and a junior faculty member or between peers (peer mentorship). In the academy, formal mentorship programs generally consist of senior faculty members who are specifically assigned to certain junior faculty members to assist the junior faculty members in their transition to and socialization in the academy (Mazerolle et al., 2018;

Waddell et al., 2016). According to Waddell et al. (2016), participants in a mentorship circle (an interdisciplinary group mentoring opportunity aimed at dismantling the restrictive dyadic mentorship of traditional mentoring) reported feeling supported and a sense of belonging. Participants also stated that the mentoring circle created a safe space of inquiry and acquisition of information, both from mentors and fellow mentees. In higher education, informal mentorship frequently occurs as peer mentorship or as an unassigned, casual coaching between a senior faculty member and a junior faculty member. According to Bowman et al. (2018), informal mentoring can be successful when formal mentoring assignments fail, and informal mentoring can be encouraged through networking opportunities.

Mazerolle et al. (2018) reported that junior faculty members frequently receive mentorship from numerous colleagues, such as their previous doctoral advisors, peer colleagues, and senior faculty members. They specified that mentors at the institution

43 usually offer information about the institution and policies such as how to have success during the tenure and promotion process; whereas, external mentors support the junior faculty members in scholarship and productivity tasks. These findings are similar to those previously reported by Riddick (2015), where he described “institutional cheerleaders” and “mentoring-at-a-distance colleagues.” These positive interactions and relationships supported the junior faculty members during their transition to the academy.

These studies suggest that exploring the interactions and relationships that MTJF members experience with their colleagues will be of importance in relation to their socialization to the academy.

Gender differences. There is no paucity in the existing literature regarding the differences of male and female faculty members. This body of literature reports gender differences in all facets of the academy from salary and promotion (Bronstein &

Farnsworth, 1998; Weisshaar, 2017; Wolf-Wendel & Ward, 2014) to service responsibilities (O’Meara, 2016; O’Meara, Kuvaeva, Nyunt, Waugaman, & Jackson,

2017) to workload differences (Hellsten et al., 2011).

Reynolds (1992) posited that gender did not dictate the types of changes and growth in new faculty members; however, she stated that gender may shape the experiences of the new faculty member. Weisshaar (2017) disputed Reynolds by reporting that the careers and promotion of female faculty members continue to be interfered with due to gendered processes in the academy. According to Weisshaar

(2017), differences in experiences such as mentoring, service loads, and gendered divisions of labor at home lead to differences in opportunities and preferences, which

44 affect performance. She contends that these are the factors that affect productivity, rather than a difference in talent or competence in comparison with male counterparts.

The amount of time dedicated to service commitments is significantly different between male and female faculty members. O’Meara (2016) reported female faculty members considered service a community responsibility whereas their male peers reported service responsibilities as a campus issue. Males were also more likely to avoid service in order to focus more on responsibilities that would promote their careers.

Female faculty members were more likely to participate in low-visibility, low-reward service commitments, and males were more likely to participate in high-reward, high- visibility service commitments.

Utilizing a co-authored autoethnography resulting in a “composite story,”

Hellsten, et al. (2011) documented their experiences as female academics working toward tenure at a research-intensive university. These academics raised several concerns from their analysis of the composite story, including feelings of isolation, work-life balance, and creating meaning in the tenure journey. They reported that their male counterparts report many of the same concerns; however, there are distinct differences in the level of home responsibility and amount of guilt that inhibits work productivity for female faculty members.

Due to the vast number of MTJF members who are female, this topic is of interest and importance to the current inquiry. Additionally, as previously described, the character qualities that are frequently embraced by music therapists may lead MTJF members to participate in even greater numbers of service commitments and may also

45 lead to greater feelings of inadequacy in the various contexts of their lives, e.g. guilt from not being at home with children.

Career Transition

Due to the fact that music therapy faculty members are all certified music therapists, most board-certified, and have practiced as clinical music therapists, MTJF members all made career changes from clinician to academic. Although many academic music therapists maintain some form of clinical work, the demands of the academy and the differences in career focus constitute a career change. Cavanaugh and Blanchard-

Fields (2015) stated that the motivators for the career changes parallel the characteristics of positive work/life development, where the worker seeks a rewarding career, about which he/she is passionate. No articles exist in the music therapy literature that explore what factors motivate clinicians to transition from the clinic to the academy; therefore, literature from other professions will be examined in this review.

Occupational development. Rosso, Dekas, and Wrzesnieswki (2010) posited that most adults derive meaning from their work through both earning money and from personal growth. According to Cavanaugh and Blanchard-Fields (2015), workers desire an environment where they are appreciated and free of organizational politics.

Furthermore, Cavanaugh and Blanchard-Fields (2015) conveyed how researchers and career coaches identify four common meanings that describe work: developing self; union with others; expressing self; and serving others. Research findings suggest that adults select occupations and make career transitions seeking the best balance of these four common meanings.

46 Career construction theory is built on two foundational occupational theories. The first is

Holland’s (1997) personality-type theory, which proposes people build careers through their own actions based on the interaction of their personality and their social context.

The theory organizes careers by the required interpersonal settings and associated lifestyle and further posits that individuals select careers that best fit their personality and preferred lifestyle (Holland, 1997). The second foundational theory is social cognitive career theory. This theory, based on Bandura’s social cognitive theory, states that individuals’ career choices are heavily influenced by their interests (Lent, 2013; Sheu,

Lent, Brown, Miller, Hennessy, & Duffy, 2010)

Self-Efficacy, Outcome Expectations, Interest, and Choice Goals are the primary factors in social cognitive career theory. Sheu et al. (2010) included two additional factors: Supports and Barriers. This theory is utilized by career counselors and coaches to help identify preferred careers and to navigate career changes.

Additionally, adults modify career goals as they develop through experiences and in response to changes in expectations, to changes in interests, and to educational needs and requirements. Modifications are also made in response to job satisfaction (resultant positive feeling stemming from appraisal of one’s work) and in response to alienation

(feelings of meaningless and devalued efforts) and burnout (depletion of energy and motivation and feelings of exploitation).

Another area of literature about occupational development includes Vallerand’s

Passion Model. Vallerand (2008) suggested that burnout does not affect all members of a profession the same way. He posited that burnout relates to the type of passion that the individual holds for the job. When harmonious passion is practiced, professionals freely

47 choose to engage in work activities and do so in harmony with their other life responsibilities. When obsessive passion is practiced, professionals struggle to disengage from work activities and experience conflict with their other life responsibilities.

Similar to the gender differences in faculty socialization, women experience and choose career transitions differently than their male counterparts. Regarding gender differences in occupational development, women are more likely to reject workplaces that emphasize tangible outputs, competitiveness, and rationality. Women in the workplace most value employment where relational skills are essential and where they are able to grow and develop within relationships and collaboration (Cavanaugh &

Blanchard-Fields, 2015). These factors may heavily contribute to the career transition of female MTJF members, given the fact that the majority of the tenure and promotion process is based on tangible outputs (productivity and student reviews), competitiveness

(grant funding and publication), and rationality.

Transition to the academy. Cohen and Kisker (2010) cited studies indicating that faculty members find reward in their work and in the freedoms granted by the tenets of the academy, such as intellectual freedom. They further cited other work suggesting that dissatisfaction of faculty members frequently results from low salaries, bureaucracy, and extrinsic demands. These results suggest that most professors ascribe to both career construction theories and to Vallerand’s Passion Model, although the following literature elucidates both the positive and negative experiences with the mid-career transition to the academy.

Cherrstrom (2014) conducted a review of literature that examined professionals who chose to transition careers to higher education and their motivations, supports, and

48 strategies as they made that transition. Motivations for transitioning to higher education from previous careers included wanting to contribute to student development, desiring to gatekeep the profession, wanting to contribute to the future of society, desiring meaningful and satisfying work, and wanting a job with intrinsic rewards as motivators for changing careers. Regarding supports, both formal senior faculty mentorship and informal peer membership were cited as important across the literature; however, the mentoring relationship was also identified as complex. In general, all of the extant literature referred to relationships both professional and personal that provided the professionals the support they desired throughout their career transitions. The strategies the midlife career transitioning professionals used to navigate their career transition included utilizing peers, self-directed learning, and prior career skills, and they generally considered the transition uncomfortable and causing mixed feelings but viewed it as a journey from which to learn. Cherrstrom’s findings may contribute to understanding 1) why clinical music therapists choose to make their career change to the academy (i.e. will it be similar to the healthcare professionals or to the other professionals), and 2) whether

MTJF members utilize similar strategies to navigate career transitions as Cherrstrom’s literature review suggested.

Following Cherrstrom’s 2014 review of literature, she conducted a study

(Cherrstrom, 2015) where she interviewed eight women. Her participants identified themselves as professionals who made midlife career transitions to adult education professorships. The professional participants were between 35 and 60 years of age and were employed at seven different institutions. Four were tenured, and four were tenure- track faculty members. Half of the women were mothers. Cherrstrom (2015) found that

49 the process of career transition for women in midlife is influenced by “midlife age, varied prior education and work experience, differing career transition beginnings and ending, and direct and indirect pathways to first tenure-track faculty positions” (p. 2). Challenges to career transition included winning a tenure-track position, relocating, the tenure process, identity development, moving from expert back to novice, and fitting in with the institutional culture. All of the participants identified supports as relational – peer, colleague, family, partner, and God. The three overarching strategies for managing career transition included creating a support community, applying skills from their prior careers, and practicing productivity. Similar to Cherrstrom’s 2014 literature review, her

2015 research study supports the current inquiry by emphasizing supports that junior faculty members frequently use to become successful academics. These results reveal additional factors to consider and to explore in the current inquiry of MTJF members. It is highly likely that MTJF members are similar to the participants in Cherrstrom’s 2015 study in both concerns and in strategies that were useful during the transition to the academy.

Another example of supporting literature from the field of education comes from

Aitken (2010), where she described her mid-career transition from the public-school classroom to the academy through an autoethnography. Aitken wrote about the challenge of “securing both authenticity and success in higher education” (p. 65). That challenge arose from the juxtaposition of her primary identity as a teacher with her need to construct a new self-identity within a research-intensive institution. Framing herself as a practitioner-researcher was one way that Aitken responded to research-related expectations and generated an identity that reflected important aspects of her sense of

50 self. She stated that she continually defined authenticity and success by her own standards, rather than by institutional norms. She furthered that she did so by continuously prioritizing teaching over research. Aitken described how in her dossier, she spent three quarters of her introduction dedicated to how three different educational contexts gave her a privileged perspective with which to understand the role of a professional program in education. She felt that because she was teaching in a professional program, her teaching experience would trump institutional requirements for research. The initial denial of her promotion likely led to her reevaluating this thought; however, after an appeal in which she presented documentation to support her scholarly and professional work, she was granted promotion. The review committee indicated that she needed to do a much better job in the future representing herself and her work.

Aitkin’s focus on sharing her teaching expertise with future educators and her experiences of struggling to maintain her identity as a public-school teacher while developing as a professor and to represent her scholarly work in a fashion that her colleagues could understand are likely demonstrative of how clinical music therapists enter the academy. MTJF members likely are focused on teaching the next generation of clinical music therapists, struggle to negotiate their dual-identity as clinician and professor, and struggle to represent their scholarship in ways that colleagues will understand when reviewing their productivity. Depending on the type of appointment

(nontenured, clinical faculty versus tenure-track faculty), MTJF are likely to experience many of the same feelings as Aitkens had of being pulled in different directions or of having the institution’s focus be at odds with their interests.

51 Braun and Mauldin (2012) described how instructors of accountancy transition to the academy either through obtainment of a PhD (AQ, academic qualification) or through years of professional expertise (PQ, professional qualification). The authors described how those who transition with PQ are likely to be instructors with focus on teaching

(frequently non-tenure track), rather than their AQ peers (likely tenure-track), who are required to participate in publishing and presenting research to be tenured. These differences are very similar to the different types of appointments that MTJF may obtain.

Braun and Mauldin recommended carefully considering what aspect of higher education is most desirable to the potential professor when s/he is deciding to pursue a position in academia – for example, if the desire is to share professional expertise and experience with future professionals, then entering higher education as PQ is recommended; whereas, if the potential professors has interest in creation of new knowledge in addition to sharing expertise, then AQ (by way of a terminal degree in the professional area) is recommended.

For participants who were surveyed regarding their experiences as PQ faculty members in accountancy, their responses were similar to many of the other studies and professions regarding this career change and the different roles in higher education. For example, PQ faculty in accountancy are hired at a 2:1 ratio of women to men. PQ faculty had an average of 20 years as professionals prior to entering the academy. Most PQ faculty expressed feeling appreciated by students but not by AQ colleagues. Many reported feeling like “second-class citizens” to their AQ colleagues. It will be important to be aware of this finding when interpreting the narratives of this study’s participants.

There is potential that MTJF members who came to the academy through professional

52 expertise rather than through academia (PhD obtainment) may have different experiences and may feel valued differently than their peers who did obtain the PhD. Furthermore, these outcomes indicate that there may differences in how and why MTJF members entered the academy and how their experiences based on those differences may affect their socialization to the academy and their professional identity development.

Transition from clinicians to academics. Numerous bodies of literature exist describing the career transition from clinical settings to the academy. Nursing, occupational therapy, physical therapy, mid-wifery, and medical scholarship all contain supporting literature for the midcareer transition to the academy to teach the future practitioners of their craft. In Cherrstrom’s 2014 review of literature regarding career change, she reported that in healthcare fields “contributing to student development” was the primary motivation for career change.

In an autoethnography, Foster (2018) shared her experiences and recommendations for clinical midwives who move from clinical practice to higher education. This career transition is very similar to clinical MTs who move from clinical work into academia. Foster iterated the notion of moving from expert to novice and recommended keeping some time to dedicate to clinical work. This decision to keep time for clinical work in order to maintain practice standards suggests that the current inquiry explore how MTJF members are keep current with clinical practice (e.g. attending conferences, reading latest literature, reviewing researcher) and whether they are reserving time to stay active practitioners.

Foster (2018) also encouraged new educators to carefully consider the financial differences, as three-years post changing to higher education, she has yet to make a wage

53 similar to her clinical wages. This particular finding may not be as related to clinical music therapists, as the profession of music therapy is not salaried at the extent that nurses are. Lastly, Foster described the requirement of obtaining the Post Graduate

Certificate in Higher Education, where teaching and learning theories of adults are studied. This education was supported financially and timewise as a portion of her academic role. These findings offer additional factors to explore in the current inquiry regarding wage differences and the requirement or desire to obtain additional training in adult development and adult learning theories. Furthermore, exploration of the additional educational benefits that accompany an academic appointment for MTJF members may be of interest to future readers.

Whereas Foster (2018) described her personal transition from clinical midwife to collegiate instructor, McDonald (2010) composed her article as a reference for new nursing educators based on her experiences transitioning from the clinical arena to the academy. McDonald’s career transition may closely relate to the transitions of MTJF members from clinical work into the academy. She utilized Benner’s (1982) theory from novice to expert, which poses five levels of proficiency through which nurses pass as they develop skills: novice, advanced beginner, competent, proficient, and expert.

McDonald also utilized the National League for Nursing’s (2005) Core competencies of

Nurse Educators with Task Statements to examine her experiences during her career transition. The lessons she conveyed were organized into three categories: knowledge deficit, culture and support, and salary/workload. McDonald (2010) described how she found the field of nursing practice to be rewarding and stimulating but how she slowly drifted into training, orientation, and staff development, which demarcated a change in

54 career that was unintentional. However, she enrolled in graduate school to learn more about teaching nursing, then was hired into a position as nursing faculty. Even with the transitions she had previously experienced in work focus and in graduate school,

McDonald emphasized the enormity of the transition to academia. One point of note was her statement regarding that accepting a new position as a nursing educator was “…equal to accepting multiple jobs” (p.127). She detailed the multifaceted learning curve and various knowledge and/or skills necessary for those different jobs: knowledge of organizational culture, skills to instruct in higher education, skills as a classroom teacher, mentorship skills, academic advising skills, and clinical supervision skills. The participants in the current study will hold similar roles to those described by McDonald in her research. In order to have new instructors’ transition successfully to the academy and to successfully experience faculty socialization, she recommended 1) additional training and orientation time aimed to ease the culture shock, 2) senior faculty and peer mentorship, 3) training in adult learning and adult development theories, and 4) honesty from professors and institution regarding salary and workload.

Brown and Sorrell (2017) also described challenges to junior nursing faculty members’ transition to the academy. These researchers conducted semi-structured interviews with nursing junior faculty members. There conversations revealed the desire for additional training and orientation to the academy. Their participants particularly requested mentorship from senior nursing faculty, which the researchers likened to clinical nursing experiences where experienced nurses monitor, mentor, and train new nursing staff. Furthermore, these researchers drew a parallel from clinical nursing, where the transitional period of one year is common to new faculty members where they suggest

55 a similar one-year transition should be implemented. The outcomes of these nursing studies suggest additional factors to consider for the current inquiry into the lived experiences of MTJF members, such as which qualities supported their persistence in their career transitions, what are their interests in additional training and orientation periods, and if they also consider formal and informal mentorship as a key experience in navigating the transition to the academy.

Professional Identity Development

As previously mentioned, when individuals enter into a new profession and experience professional socialization, they are likely to develop new identities that must be incorporated with the existing sense of self. MTJF members who transition from clinical work to the academy are likely to experience this development of new professional identities.

According to Aguayo-González and Monereo-Font (2012), professional identity of “professor” is constructed by the individual and is shaped by social constructs developed and accepted by professors. These constructs relate back to the definitions of culture. These social constructs of “professor” are stable over time. Aguayo-González and Monereo-Font (2012) further posited that the individual’s professional identity is composed of “a professional role, some epistemological conception, intervention strategies, and feeling and emotions associated to the practice...[of nursing]” (p. 400).

Allan and Lewis (2006) suggest professional identity is socially constructed and based on attributes, beliefs, values, motives, and experiences resulting from personal and collective reflection. Furthermore, professional identity is defined as “the relatively stable and enduring constellation of attributes, beliefs, values, motives, and experiences in terms of

56 which people define themselves in a professional role” (Ibarra, 1999, pp. 764-765). To develop a particular identity, an individual must have content knowledge, an opportunity to practice relevant behavior, and recognize oneself and be recognized by others as fulfilling a particular role (Carlone & Johnson, 2007).

Marine and Martinez Alemán (2018) dispute several aspects of the previous definitions. They cite Beijaard, Meiger, and Verloop who noted that professional identity is not fixed nor is it stable. Similar to Bierema’s statements regarding faculty socialization, where she stated that successful professional socialization entails the development of a new professional identity. Marine and Martinez Alemán (2018) posited that faculty members construct their professional identity through numerous contexts, such as profession-related and departmental expectations, and ongoing intersections of the multiple roles that academics hold. These varying definitions of professional identity development result in a complicated construct. This construct, however, is deeply embedded in feelings of (in)adequacy and (un)success of junior faculty members. This construct answers the questions such as, “Who am I as a professor?” and “What and how do I think I should teach?” (Aguayo-González & Monereo-Font, 2012). A strong sense of professional identity best serves the individual, the institution, the students, and the profession.

Eckel and Kezar (2016) suggested an additional complicating factor to professional identity development. They stated that institutions themselves struggled to develop and move forward in any organized fashion due to their “inconsistent, ambiguous, and uncertain goals…” (p. 172) and further described institutions of higher learning as sources of dual authority, which further complicated the workplace for

57 professionals navigating their futures. These outcomes suggest that the development of professional identity may be affected by the specific institution at which the MTJF member is hired.

Music Therapy Faculty Perspectives

Because there are few studies specifically exploring the experiences of music therapy faculty, the ones that do exist will be key to guiding this current inquiry.

Gooding (2018) explored which work-life factors music therapy faculty in the United

States reported as being influential on their work-life balance and their success through the use of survey. She defined work-life factors as individual, organizational, and societal. Eighty-nine participants responded, and the results indicated that music therapy faculty members are predominantly female and white, with an average age of 49 years old. Two-thirds were tenured/tenure-track, and the majority worked 41 or more hours per week. Most respondents were somewhat or very satisfied with their current position

(85.71%), but a substantial portion of respondents were somewhat or very dissatisfied with salary (41.61%), work-life balance (39.29%), and workload (35.72%), with a substantial proportion stating that their workload was higher than other music and non- music faculty. This last factor is indicative of the differences in program requirements, where the curriculum for music therapy programs is intense and demanding both in number of required hours and in required skills, which further illustrates the immense learning curve MTs must negotiate upon entrance to the academy. It is likely that the concerns raised by these MT faculty members will also be of concern for participants in this current study. Gooding’s participants, however, had a great deal more experience with and time in the academy than do these participants.

58 Lloyd, Richardson, Boyle, and Jackson (2018) utilized narrative methodology to report challenges experienced by music therapy faculty teaching undergraduate coursework. The outcomes of these narratives indicated that observing students grow was the most gratifying experience of the instructors. Areas of concern included lack of resources, overcrowding, and work-life balance. Little more explanation was provided for themes that emerged from the narratives. An interpretive phenomenological analysis methodology was used, which was interesting and gave her the option of writing an epoché section, which relayed her personal narrative of developing through different roles in the academy. The methodology and frameworks utilized by Lloyd et al. provide a foundation for reporting qualitative research in the field of music therapy related higher education and training of future music therapists. However, it is notable that the outcomes were limited to undergraduate curriculum, and the current inquiry has a greater focus on music therapy graduate curriculum.

Ferrer (2018) conducted a study using phone interviews of music therapy faculty members and active members of the American Music Therapy Association (AMTA) to explore their opinions of the status of the field and the development of the profession.

The results indicated that the respondents’ professional growth was influenced by their educational experiences, by their mentors, and by the communities of practice in which they participated. The areas of concern reported by the participants included greater use of qualitative methods in research, literature with a clear description of the music therapy process, and growth of the profession in numbers and in respect and acceptance from related professional communities.

59 Three junior faculty members recently presented (Belt, Moore, & Potvin, 2018) their autoethnographic reflections on developing as music therapy faculty members at the national conference of AMTA in Dallas, TX. Each of the three autoethnographers utilized mixed arts methods to journal or document their development. All three researchers documented days where they felt successful and days that were challenging enough to result in feelings of inadequacy.

Conclusion

Very few clinical experts possess the educational background and training to be proficient professors upon entrance to the academy. Junior faculty members experience an immense learning curve when transitioning from the clinical arena to the academy and frequently experience feelings of inadequacy and failure. The pressures of meeting the expectations placed upon junior faculty members by institutions, the tenets of tenure, and peer review committees can be crushing to new academicians. The outcomes of a small pilot study indicated that MTJF members experience these same feelings. Those negative feelings and immense learning curve could be lessened by improvements and modifications to the music therapy graduate curriculum, but data are necessary to intimate and to guide those changes.

Through the participation of seven MTJF members in semi-structured interviews and through the participation of two additional MTJF members in triangulating interviews, this study aimed to collect the narratives of their lived experiences during their first five years in the academy. Based on Transformative Learning Theory

(Mezirow, 1991), and being interpreted through a social constructivism paradigm, this

60 study aimed to weave their collected stories into data to be used to propose changes in educational preparation of future music therapy professors.

CHAPTER III

METHODOLOGY

With the rapid development of music therapy programs creating an immediate need for qualified faculty members, it was important to understand the lived experiences of current music therapy junior faculty (MTJF) members in order to better prepare future music therapy professors for their transition to the academy. For music therapists (MTs) to be successful in their career transition from the clinical arena to the academy, improvements and modifications to the graduate music therapy curriculum are likely necessary. Data were essential to intimate and to guide suggested changes. Little literature existed regarding music therapy faculty members and their lived experiences in the academy, and there were no published studies that examined the experiences of MTJF members and their transition to the academy. The purpose of this narrative research study was to explore the lived experiences of MTJF members as they sought to become successful academicians.

Design

The characteristics of a narrative approach made it ideal for this study. Clandinin

(2013) wrote that narrative developed out of the desire to understand experiential knowledge. Narrative approach collects life stories. Those life stories are intended to

62 convey a message or a point regarding the participant’s experiences in a complex social process (Chase, 1995). Entering into the academic environment certainly can be described as a “complex social process,” thus narrative was an ideal approach. Because experiences are different based on personality, expectations, and institution of employment, a narrative design was ideal as it embodies the relationship between the narrator (participant) and her/his culture (Riessman, 2008). This approach also utilizes chronology, or temporal relation of life (Creswell, 2013). Because this study aimed to track the participants’ experiences from their initial entrance to the academy through their first five years of employment, chronology was an organizing factor to their stories and experiences. It also established the timeline for professional identity development of the participants. Professional identity development is a likely resultant of pertinent experiences. Denzin (1989) identifies these pertinent experiences as turning points.

Research Questions

The aim of this narrative research study was to explore the lived experiences of MTJF members as they sought to become successful academicians. The following research questions were employed to undertake this aim:

o What are the lived experiences of MTJF members during their first five

years in the academy?

o How do MTJF members gain institutional knowledge and experience

faculty socialization as members of the academy?

o How do MTJF members view their professional identity development over

time?

63 Conceptual Framework

Narrative qualitative research was utilized for this study. A quantitative survey would have been capable of eliciting opinions from MTJF members and maybe even capable of collecting a vignette or two; however, the rich, deep details of personal, individual experiences and perspectives could not be captured in such a fashion.

Quantitative methods are not capable of eliciting additional details of lived experiences and do not provide opportunity for co-construction of knowledge.

Developing a comprehensive understanding of the individual, the lived experiences, and the context could not be done in a one-dimensional, highly controlled study. Individuals are dynamic and complex, and those qualities create the unique lived experiences that this study aimed to explore. In order for that exploration to be successful, it required an open, free (less controlled) design. A qualitative methodology was far better suited to painting the picture of the lived experiences of individuals in their early years in the academy with depth, color, and detail than was a quantitative methodology.

Due to the nature of the aim of this study and the closeness of the topic to the participants, it was imperative to collect the narratives in natural settings. This topic may have been emotionally charged for some participants, which also merited a more personal, sensitive approach to the data collection. Additionally, qualitative methods are inductive and allow “for an iterative and ongoing pursuit of meaning” (Galletta, 2013, p.

18). An iterative approach implies that as the researcher collects data, s/he analyzes it.

There is a looping back and collection of additional data, which are then analyzed. This loop continues until the researcher believes s/he has reached saturation, which is when

64 the researcher believes to be collecting few if any new thematic dimensions in the data.

Creswell (2013) described the inductive nature of qualitative research as the building of themes from the “’bottom up,’ by organizing the data inductively into increasingly more abstract units of information” (p. 45); in other words, it involves beginning with the particular and moving toward some conceptualizing over time. Inductive work involves the researcher repeatedly moving from the particulars of the database to categorizing and clustering these particularities into key ideas and vice versa to develop the final set of themes.

Theoretical Framework – Transformative Learning Theory

Transformative Learning Theory embodies a process of making meaning from one’s experiences and questioning assumption based on prior experiences. One expects similar outcomes based on prior experiences, and it is those expectations that are called into question during transformative learning. Dirkx (2012) described transformative learning as not only a change in what one knows or what one is able to do, but also as “a dramatic shift in how we come to know and how we understand ourselves in relation to the broader world” (p. 116) and proposed that transformation is cultivated by “soul work.” Soul work entails the individual becoming aware of different selves operating within the same psyche (Dirkx, 1997).

Mezirow (1991) was the initiating theorist of transformative learning and posited four ways that adult learning occurs: elaborating on existing frames of references; learning frames of references; transforming points of view; and transforming habits of mind (Brookfield, 2010). In 1991, Mezirow specified three types of reflection: content reflection which entails examining what one perceives, thinks, feels, or acts; process

65 reflection which examines how one perceives, thinks, feels, or acts; and premise reflection which examines why one perceives, thinks, feels, or acts as one does.

Initially, Mezirow (1978) described a 10-phase process for personal perspective transformation, and he called his perspective transformation “a structural reorganization”

(p. 162) in the way that the person views her/himself and her/his relationships. In the last

40 years, emphasis has been placed on encountering a disorienting dilemma and critically questioning or responding to the habitual expectations that made the event disorienting.

One of the cornerstones of transformative learning is critical self-reflection that results in a transformation or change in thought, perception, or action (Mezirow &

Associates, 2000; Taylor, 2008). Another tenet of transformative learning is shift in self- perception. When a learner adjusts their habitual expectations, s/he is reinterpreting her/him “self” in relation to the world. The “disorienting dilemma,” another cornerstone of transformative learning, often stimulates critical self-reflection and examination

(Brookfield, 2010). Events such as a job loss, death, or divorce would constitute disorienting dilemmas. The critical reflection from these disorienting dilemmas results in a reframing or modification of those beliefs/assumptions, which then permits the learner to reenter the world making sense of experiences with new/modified/transformed schema

Merriam & Bierema, 2014). It is notable that not all transformations may be permanent

(e.g. Wilner & Dubouloz, 2011, 2012) and that not all transformations are for the positive

(Merriam, Mott, & Lee, 1996).

Although transformative learning currently dominates adult learning research and discussion, it is not without criticism. Many adult learning theorists have called for greater theoretical precision in its conceptualizations (Baldwin, 2019). Cranton (2016)

66 simply wrote, “…those interested in transformative learning, struggle to define the boundaries and the scope of their discipline” (p. 1).

Some of the lack of clarity comes from theorists situating their work in transformative learning, based on derivatives of other developmental theories including, but not limited to Bruner, Kitchener, Jung, and Erikson. Furthermore, Transformative

Learning Theory shares many of Dewey’s (1938) concepts proposed in Experiential

Learning Theory. Baldwin (2019) summarized the major critiques and the authoring critics:

… (a) limited exploration of theoretical conceptualizations other than Mezirow’s

model (Taylor & Snyder, 2012), (b) failure to differentiate metatheoretical models

form [sic] narrower specific theory (Hoggan, 2016), (c) inadequate critique of

empirical studies (Taylor & Snyder, 2012), (d) lack of connection with models of

general learning (Illeris, 2017b), and (e) theorizing learning as a single object

(Fenwick, 2010). (p. 1)

Newman (2012) posited additional critiques. For example, Newman (2012) questioned the veracity of transformative learning, stating that the label is widely applied to all types of learning. He suggested that transformative learning may not be a type of learning, but rather a different degree of learning. Newman’s argument suggests that people learn and adjust their beliefs incessantly during their daily lives; and therefore, transformational learning is but an extreme case of daily experience. Other theorists concur that it is unclear what is being transformed and that the what changes regarding the interpretive framework. Another concern addresses the existence of boundaries, which involves the individual versus the social focus. Furthermore, experts struggle to

67 assess transformation, both at the individual level of learning and at the social level.

Additionally, the theory is criticized for Mezirow’s supposition of the transformation’s positive permanency. He posited that one cannot unlearn and revert back to previous thought systems and that the changes were for the better. Other studies presented cases of such reversion (e.g., Wilner & Dubouloz, 2011, 2012) and cases where schema changed for the negative (Merriam, Mott, & Lee, 1996).

Aside from critiquing the theory as a whole, some theorists have challenged certain tenets of the theory. For example, Cranton (2016) challenged Transformative

Learning Theory’s cornerstone of critical reflection, by stating that theorists be “open to processes other than critical self-reflection as central to transformation...” (p. 6). Citing

Kolb (2015) and MacKeracher (2012), Cranton challenged their concept that reflection is necessary in order to learn. She stated that learning may be driven by “critical self- reflection, exploration, and intuition with no further reference to the world outside of the self.” (p. 7). Dirkx (2000) wrote that transformation can take place in unconscious images and in soulwork, further suggesting that outward reflection need not be present for transformative learning to take place. Cranton (2016) completes her line of argument by stating that the outcome of transformative learning should be action, according to

Mezirow’s 2012 work.

In order for Transformative Learning Theory to be applicable to the current inquiry, appropriate data needed to be collected. The first and second research questions of this current study aimed to collect the context and narrated experiences of the participants, as mandated by Transformative Learning Theory. Furthermore, the first and second questions revealed some of the participants’ reflections on their experiences.

68 These data became foundational to the questions and outcomes of professional identity, learning, and change drawn during analysis.

Baldwin (2019) conducted a review and synthesis of Dirkx’s and Illeris’s work.

She sought to integrate and to contrast their conceptualization of transformative learning as a change in identity. In other words, change in identity is indicative that transformative learning has taken place. In this current inquiry, the third research question specifically address professional identity development; therefore, the suggestion that transformative learning may target changes in identity makes these additional theoretical distinctions meaningful.

Illeris (2014) described identity as the individual’s mental center, and he proposed that it is comprised of three layers: the core (innermost layer) reflects the deep qualities of existence as a unique being and coordinates the complexities of identity elements; the personality (second layer) includes the person’s principles, behavior patterns, values, meaning, and social conventions, and it is less stable than the core; and the outermost layer is called preference and consists of experiences and meanings that are receptive to change. Illeris (2014) stated that the second layer, the personality, is the target layer for transformative learning. Dirkx viewed identity similarly. His 1997 work conceptualized identity as a complex, multifaceted psychosocial construct of “self” that creates a consciousness of narrative biography.

Cranton’s (2016) argument regarding reflection, along with Dirkx’s suppositions on identity, emotion, and learning and Illeris’s work on qualitative shift in identity will become crucial to the Discussion chapter of this inquiry.

69 Interpretive Paradigm

Transformative Learning Theory is based on constructivist assumptions (Cranton,

2016). As such, it was appropriate to interpret this inquiry through a social constructivist lens. Social constructivism seeks to construct knowledge (Creswell, 2013). In this paradigm, the researcher explores the varied and complex experiences of the participants rather than seeking to focus the collective experiences into narrow categories. Social constructivism entails an inductive method where meaning making takes place from the particulars to the more abstract, versus other interpretive paradigms that deduce findings from theory. Social constructivism is sometimes considered a stand-alone paradigm, as in Creswell (2013) and Hays and Singh (2012); however, others (e.g. Greene, 2009) group social constructivism into a broader “Interpretive” framework. Social constructivism utilizes multiple types of data collection (observation, review of documents, study of artifacts) from multiple points in time (Creswell, 2013); however, interview is considered the hallmark. The methodology of social constructivism requires a literary style of writing.

Ontology refers to the nature of reality and whether more than one reality can exist for the researcher and her/his participants in relation to the external world. In social constructivism, the belief is that multiple realities exist and that they are constructed through lived experiences and interactions with others (Creswell, 2013). Realities are multiple as seen through many views, which result in the researcher reporting difference perspectives as themes develop in the findings. This ontological perspective also undergirds narrative inquiry. Narrative inquiry is based on the experiences had by

70 individuals, across time. These experiences are unique to the individual, thus creating unique views and multiple realities constructed by individuals.

Epistemology refers to beliefs regarding the creation of knowledge. It poses the question “how do we know what we know?” Epistemology also addresses the relationship between researchers and participants. Unlike the post-positivist paradigm, social constructivism emphasizes the closeness of the participants to the topic of the study, as well as the closeness of the researcher to the topic. Social constructivists believe that truth and knowledge is co-constructed by the participant and the researcher.

It is shaped by individuals’ experiences (Creswell, 2013). The researcher and the participant(s) share experiences regarding the outside world and with each other, and together create a shared knowledge. This social constructivist epistemology is suitable to narrative inquiry since narrative inquiry promotes the inquirer entering into the participants’ lives and sharing experiences. These shared experiences suggest influence and a co-creation of the experiences.

Axiology considers the role of values and subjectivity in the research. Some methods require that the researcher’s values are boxed and left out of the research. These methods also promote absolutely objectivity from the researcher. Social constructivism promotes the opposite ideas, as does narrative inquiry. Social constructivism values reciprocity, and narrative inquiry requires reciprocity. Individual values are honored, and values are negotiated (Creswell, 2013). Subjectivity is valued and discussed. These values, and even biases, are transparent and reflected upon. The same is true for the participants. Values are shared, considered, and revealed.

71 The use of the social constructivist interpretive paradigm was justified by the aim of the present study. The aim of this study was to capture the varied lived experiences of

MTJF members through semi-structured interviews and to allow the themes to emerge organically through an iterative process (Galletta, 2013), constructing knowledge from a collection of realities. This collection of realities shared by the participants and me were meant to be co-constructed through the interviews and transcript review. Due to my closeness to the topic, it was imperative to select an interpretive paradigm that valued subjectivity and where that subjectivity could be addressed and transparent.

Context

The context of the study was universities or colleges that offered degree-granting music therapy programs. These programs differed in enrollment (number of students and level of students), in degrees granted (undergraduate – BA, BM, BS, and graduate – MS,

MA, MM), in philosophical approach to music therapy, in geographical region, in number of faculty members, and in programmatic history. These contextual differences likely affected the cultural and structural forces that impacted the participants’ experiences.

Participants

Participants were divided into two interview categories. Set One interviews included seven music therapy junior faculty members, and Set Two interviews (utilized in a similar fashion to a focus group) consisted of two music therapy junior faculty members. All participants were selected through stratified purposeful sampling (Hays &

Singh, 2012, p. 167). These participants were full-time, tenure-track professors of music therapy from across the United States with representation from four of the seven

72 professional regions as established by the American Music Therapy Association

(AMTA). The board-certification of these participants ranged from 5 years to 30 years.

Participants held either a master’s degree or a PhD. The master’s degree is considered the terminal degree in music therapy. The PhD in music therapy is currently only conferred by Temple University, which utilizes a very specific philosophy of music therapy, which may prohibit many music therapy professors (or potential professors) from pursuing that degree. Music therapists earn PhDs in many related fields. The most commonly held PhD of music therapy instructors is a PhD in music education with emphasis in music therapy (Olszewski, 2017). Participants held additional roles or responsibilities such as music therapy program director or coordinator. These responsibilities were notable, as they complicated the participants’ position and interactions with colleagues, students, and the academy. Because women in music therapy outnumber men at a ratio of 88:12 (AMTA, 2017), participants were mostly female (6:1). It is notable that the ratio of female to male music therapy instructors, at

77:23 (Olszewski, on-going) is not as dramatically different as is the ratio for practitioners. Participants were recruited via personal invitation, sent via email to the workplace emails listed on the university/college websites for the professors.

Data Collection

Data were collected through two sets of semi-structured interviews. The Set One interviews were conducted with the initial seven participants, and these interviews were coded and analyzed to develop the themes and categories. The Set Two interviews consisted of semi-structured interviews, conducted with an additional two participants in order to triangulate the data that had emerged from the first set of interviews.

73 The use of semi-structured interviews allowed attention to the lived experiences, but they also permitted flexibility to address variables that emerged from the data

(Galletta, 2013). According to Braun and Clarke (2013) qualitative interviews reflect the following characteristics: variation according to the style of the interviewer and the response of the participant; use of an interview guide prepared in advance that is flexible and responsive to the participant, inclusion of open-ended questions that encourage detailed responses; intent to capture the range and diversity of participants’ responses; and co-construction of meaning between the interviewer and the participant.

Clandinin and Connelly (2000) wrote that for some researchers, narrative had become nothing more than story recording and telling those stories back and that to those researchers, narrative was nothing more than linguistic inquiry. Researchers with those belief utilized little more than a voice recorder to collect their data and were pleased with merely counting utterances and responses. Clandinin and Connelly (2000) concurred that the use of a voice recorder to correctly collect the linguistic information was necessary; however, in contrast, they argued that the narrative inquirer should also consider the context of the utterances in order to “[know] the narrative threads at work” (p. 78). They continued that the narrative inquirer would note not only the story but also “actions, doings, and happenings” which they reported to be narrative expressions. While a recording device was utilized in this current study in order to collect the participants’ words for transcription, video chat via Skype or FaceTime was also used. The use of these online video chat platforms permitted the interviewees’ facial expressions, their other non-verbal responses, and the spaces in which they chose to situate themselves for

74 the interviews to be documented. Furthermore, the use of this technology allowed for

Clandinin and Connelly’s recommended actions, doings, and happenings to be collected.

Set one interviews. This study included an interview conducted in each participant’s preferred way - via Skype or FaceTime. These initial interviews ranged from 47 minutes to 96 minutes in length and took place at the participants’ preferred time and preferred location. All of the semi-structured interview questions (refer to Figure 1) were posed during this initial interview; however, in several instances, the participant answered a question prior to it being asked. Among the seven virtual interviews, most participants were situated in their place of employment or in the comforts of their own home.

After transcription and transcript review by the researcher, each transcript was emailed to the respective participant. The participants were invited to send edits or updates to their transcript. This opportunity for review allowed the participants to member check and to critically reflect on their words and stories and to make further meaning of those reflections. Critical reflection at this juncture in the study was theoretically imperative with the use of Transformative Learning Theory (Mezirow,

1991).

Of the seven Set One participants, only three returned the manuscripts with edits.

These edits included requests for additional confidentiality, particularly in narratives where colleagues were conveyed in a less than flattering light and where the details would lead informed readers directly to the identity of the participant. Other information to be struck included side conversation between the participant and the interviewer. Of the three returned with edits, only one of the transcripts contained additions/edits that

75 illustrated reflection. This specific addition included a current narrative about how a student had asked the same question of the professor while she was reviewing the transcript, as I had during the interview. She described how she had pondered her answer following the interview, which led her to respond to the student with clarity and precision.

One participant sent an email of approval for the transcript, but also sent an attachment with additional comments to one response, which were intended for clarification of the original response. The remaining three participants approved of their transcripts without further comment or edits. None of the seven participants asked for additional interview time; thus, a second interview was not conducted.

Set Two interviews. Additional recruiting emails were sent inviting the remaining members of the population to participate in a focus group to triangulate the data collected through the Set One interviews. Of the twenty-three invitations sent, three individuals returned the consent form. However, the complex schedules maintained by the participants and the varying time zones in which the participants lived prevented the use of a structured focus group. En lieu of the intended focus group, additional one-on-one interviews were conducted. These participants met the same criteria for board- certification, degree, and regional differences as the Set One interview participants. The interviews of the Set Two interviewees allowed for triangulation of the interpretation of the initial analysis, and, furthermore, created space for additional exploration of variation among the members of the study population.

These individuals received Appendix 1, which presented the initial themes with exemplars and Figure 1 (the interview protocol questions) two days prior to the scheduled

76 interview times via email. This email also served as a reminder and confirmation of day and time for the interview. Only two of the three second interviews were conducted. The third individual discontinued communication.

Interview question development for Set One interviews. The questions for the semi-structured interviews were developed directly from the research questions. After a small pilot project was conducted in 2018, several questions were added to the initial set of interview questions. Those questions constituted the opening interview questions

(refer to Figure 1, purple and green rows). Another modification based on the pilot study was to allot time at the beginning of the interviews to visit briefly in order to develop rapport, since not all of new participants had previously established rapport with the researcher as did the participants in the pilot study. The interview protocol was developed to create a bookend effect for the questions, opening with an extremely general, open-ended statement to begin the narrative sharing and then ending with an open-ended question for closing the interview. The interview questions are presented in

Figure 1.

77 Figure 1. MTJF Members’ Lived Experiences Interview Protocol: Questions

• How did you come to the music therapy profession? Prior career Information • Did you always have a desire to pursue a position in higher education?

• What is your undergraduate experience? Educational training history • Graduate experience? Teaching? Researching? • Mentoring?

Tell me about your first couple of years as a professor of music therapy.

• What was it like to be new to the academy? New to Academy • Does any experience or interaction stick out in your mind?

• How did you learn all that you needed to learn to be successful? Gain Knowledge • Does any experience or interaction stick out in your mind?

• How has your professional identity evolved? Identity Development • Does any experience or interaction stick out in your mind that affected this development? Maybe persistent struggles or challenges with the institution or with colleagues?

Can you recall any key moments or interactions that you think demarcated or inhibited your path to success in the academy?

Is there anything you would like to add or anything that came to mind as we visited?

Interview question development for set two interviews. The questions for the set two, semi-structured interviews were developed to triangulate the data that emerged from the Set One interviews and to utilize peer review for the interpretation of the initial analysis. These questions also sought to create space for additional exploration of variation in the experiences of MTJF members. The Set Two interview questions were as follows:

1) Do you think these responses are similar to your experiences?

a. How so, or how not so?

b. Did any of the exemplars stand out or speak to you?

78 2) Did the participants miss something in their narratives that you would have

definitely included in yours?

Analysis

Transcription. Interviews were recorded via Sony ICDUX560BLK stereo digital voice recorder with built-in USB. This recording device sat on the laptop computer where the Skype/FaceTime interviews were conducted to ensure the best quality recording. Recordings were then sent to Rev.com for transcription services, where verbatim transcription was requested. Following the return of the transcript from

Rev.com, I then re-transcribed from the recordings in order to ensure accuracy and to correct, to edit, and to make additions to accomplish the orthographic transcription

(Braun & Clarke, 2013) that I desired for the interview transcripts. Orthographic transcription was necessary in order to capture pauses and linguistic nuances that may be indicative of concern or hesitation, which could be very meaningful in the context of the lived experiences of the participants. Narrative design entails interpreting those pauses and nuances, as well as what is not said; therefore, orthographic transcription was critical to this study.

Coding. Saldaña’s codes-to-theory model was used to analyze the data to recognize emerging codes. The broad structure of the codes-to-theory model entails examining codes and grouping those codes into categories (Saldaña, 2016), and as these categories are further developed through additional data collection, they are organically grouped to create themes. This coding method stems from grounded theory. Although this study did not utilize a grounded theory framework, I felt that using a coding system that allowed for tentative or provisional codes that would be reworded as the analysis

79 progressed, was important to the rigor of the analysis, particularly due to my subjectivity.

This method seemed most robust to any bias with which I might code.

Initial coding, or the first cycle coding is a starting point that provides the researcher direction for further exploration. Emotion Coding (Saldaña, 2016), stemming from Affective Methods, was utilized during the first cycle coding. Emotion coding is employed with data regarding intra- and interpersonal “experiences and actions, especially in matters of social relationships, reasoning, decision-making, judgment, and risk-taking” (Saldaña, 2016, p. 125). The narratives of the MTJF participants constituted data that exemplified all of those qualities, signifying that Emotion coding was indicated.

The Set Two interviewees reviewed the Emotion-coded categories. Those categories were further developed through additional data collection (Set Two interviewees’ input) and were organically grouped to create themes (Saldaña, 2016). The input from those participants contributed to further categorization and modifications to the co-construction of the themes.

According to Saldaña’s method, codes are examined and grouped into categories.

When reflecting on the codes, rereading the transcripts, and listening again to the interviews, a second level of coding will emerge organically. The second cycle utilized

Theoretical Coding (Saldaña, 2016). Theoretical Coding moved the analysis toward discovery of the primary theme or core/central category, which explains “what ‘this research is all about’” (Strauss & Corbin, 1998, p. 146). In Theoretical Coding, all of the previously explored codes, themes, and categories become integrated around that primary theme or core/central category. Again, this method is indicative of Grounded Theory and the development of theory; however, Hennick, Hutter, and Bailey (2011) asserted that

80 research that applies existing theories, in this case Transformative Learning Theory, is substantive so long as the “how” and “why” of the phenomena being examined are thoroughly explained.

Ethical Considerations

The Cleveland State University Institutional Review Board reviewed this study to ensure that proper precautions were taken to protect the participants prior to the study’s commencement. I assumed all responsibility for following the rules of that approval to conduct the most ethical, safest study in order to protect participants and to accurately construct knowledge. As previously mentioned, this topic of discussion was professionally risky for the participants because of the potential for harm in the form of one’s employment and advancement. Had a participant’s colleague realized that the participant had negatively portrayed him/her in a narrative, the participant could have been marginalized in the tenure and promotion review process. Member checking (Hays

& Singh, 2012) was utilized so participants could review and approve their narratives, which gave them power and ownership over their words and their stories. Participants’ review and approval of interview transcripts reduced the risk of threat of harm to their career among tenure-track participants; however, participants may not have anticipated harm, so member checking offered additional validation of the narratives. Ethical concerns involving my relationship to participants involved entering into a dual- or multi- relationship: friends, colleagues, and participant/researcher. Precautions were taken to protect each of those relationships. Those precautions included detailed participation forms, IRB review, assurance of confidentiality, member checking, reflexive memos, and open, honest conversation.

81 Confidentiality. Participants received pseudonyms, as did their respective institutions. The regions in which participants teach were not reported for this study, as it would have threatened the confidentiality of the participants. Participation forms, transcriptions, and pseudonym lists in physical form were stored in a locked file cabinet in a locked office.

Researcher Role

In this study, I acted as the collection instrument (Creswell, 2013), which implies that instead of a tool/test/survey, I was the direct recipient of the participants’ data.

Recordings of the interviews were made; however, I was solely responsible for eliciting the data-rich narratives. Hays and Singh (2012) “adamantly” recommend the researcher transcribe all of the project’s interviews, particularly those that s/he conducted. Although

I utilized Rev.com as a transcription service in the interest of time, I reviewed those raw transcripts and edited them to reflect the orthographic transcription I desired for the study. Furthermore, I edited the transcripts to correct errors, fill in missing words, and remove misinterpretations. Additionally, I acted as the analyst of the data. The trustworthiness of this study was solely my responsibility.

The participants were my colleagues and some even my friends, which required additional promises for confidentiality. The topic of the narratives was delicate, as participants revealed concerns/issues regarding mutual colleagues and tenure and promotion that may have been career endangering. This worry merited additional attention to confidentiality to ensure the safety of participants and their professional futures.

82 Hays and Singh (2012) stated their belief that reciprocity and positionality should be discussed “in tandem so that the researcher can also reflect on how power is distributed in the researcher-participant relationship…” (p. 186). Reciprocity refers to the concept that a relationship exists between the researcher and the participant where knowledge is likely to be created and shared. This sharing may entail a form of “giving back” to the participants in the form of sharing transcripts, providing a summary of the findings, presenting at a conference that is meaningful to the participants, or invitation to publish on the topic at a later date. In terms of reciprocity, this study offered participants a platform to share positive and negative experiences, workplace successes and failures, questions and concerns regarding the academy, and narratives regarding interpersonal interactions with colleagues. In return, I gained the deep, rich descriptive narrative data necessary to explore the lived experiences of MTJF members. Together, ideas and knowledge were co-constructed through the narratives.

Positionality signifies the social locations of the researcher and the participants.

My positionality in this study was that of peer and colleague. I was similar to my participants in position, and I met the sampling criteria. Locating a gatekeeper was not necessary, as I was familiar with the population and was an insider. That positionality produced a study that was deeply emic-oriented in its approach. Participants and I shared history of studying music therapy, completing a music therapy program of study, passing the music therapy board-certification exam, practicing as board-certified music therapists, completing at least one graduate degree emphasizing music therapy, and successful completion of the application and interview process in becoming tenure-track faculty members. These shared experiences contributed to my credibility to research this

83 particular group and these particular lived experiences. As such, trust was necessary between the participants and me. I had to fulfill my promises of confidentiality and all other points of the participation agreement; my professional reputation, not only as a researcher, but also as a music therapist and college professor, was at risk.

Subjectivity

As a tenure-track, music therapy junior faculty member, I held a great deal of subjectivity on this inquiry. Hays and Singh (2012) defined subjectivity as the researcher’s personal understandings and attitudes regarding of the researched phenomenon. Subjectivity is either embraced or minimized. Because social constructivism was the interpretive paradigm for this study, subjectivity was viewed both as a strength and as a challenge. As a strength, it was permitted to contribute to the co- creation of the truth and knowledge with participants. Additionally, my subjectivity brought knowledge of the experiences that were being researched, which contributed to the construction of the interview protocol. As a challenge, this framework required awareness of biases and did not permit researcher bias to overwrite those experiences of the participants. In order to address that challenge, writing of reflexive memos and other approaches to trustworthiness were employed to keep subjectivity appropriately proportional to subjectivity of the participants for the co-construction of interpretations.

Specifically, regarding my subjectivity at the time of data collected, I had wonderful experiences in the academy that illuminated why one desires to work in higher education; however, I also had experiences that made me ashamed of working within the structures of the academy. I had been blessed with colleagues who mentor and colleagues who collaborate, and I had been disappointed, deceived, and dismissed by

84 other colleagues. This subjectivity was heavy and intense. Although it followed me into this line of inquiry, it also was what prompted my interest in the topic. Where Creswell

(2013) warned researchers of the danger of researching their own space, I chose to explore MTJF members’ experiences in the academy anyway, however, not with reckless abandon.

Colleagues frequently freely share their experiences with me. I do not know if that sharing is because I am without pretense and willing to listen or if it is because of my training as a therapist, but I do know that sometimes people share deeply personal information. These instances of unsolicited sharing seemed to strategically position me to conduct interviews exploring lived experiences, provided that I maintained awareness of my subjectivity and positionality. Glesne and Peshkin, as cited in Creswell (2013) warned to not research “your own backyard – within your own institution or agency, or among friends” (p. 151). They continued that this type of information is political and risky for the investigator. I recognized and accepted this risk, and I attended to many of

Creswell’s (2013) recommendations regarding strategies of validation to ensure accuracy and insight when investigating my own organization. These are discussed within the

Trustworthiness section. I plan to continue being an active, productive member of the academic community and would prefer others appreciate my presence rather than abhor it; therefore, I trod lightly and cautiously as I explored my participants’ experiences in the academy.

Trustworthiness

Terminology. Validity and reliability are terms best suited for quantitative research and do not lend themselves to qualitative methodologies such as narrative. For

85 qualitative methodologies, Morrow (2005) suggested examining quality of research through trustworthiness (also termed credibility or rigor). Transferability is also of a concern for some paradigms; however, it is not a tenet of social constructivism, particularly when explored through narrative approaches. There is no intention for the data from the narratives to be generalized to others. It is notable, however, that transferability can be achieved if the research provides thick description, allowing for consideration of what can be conceptualized with the findings and the thematic analysis.

Trustworthiness and rigor. Qualitative experts recommend numerous methods to ensure quality and trustworthiness. These methods include: reflexive journals/memos, field notes/memos, prolonged engagement in the field, persistent observation, triangulation of data sources, peer review or debriefing, simultaneous data collection and analysis, negative case analysis, clarifying researcher bias, member checking, rich/thick description, referential adequacy, and external audits (Creswell, 2013; Hays & Singh,

2012).

The design of this study permitted several of these methods to be utilized for quality assurance. As previously mentioned, reflexive writing (in the form of journals, memos, and field notes) was utilized by the researcher, writing about the research process and on thoughts and feelings throughout the project. Reflexive writing was also used to record project-related decisions and plans to ensure quality through monitoring subjectivity. Furthermore, reflexive writing was used to clarify researcher bias.

Triangulation of data sources was accomplished through the collection of data from both

Sets of the interviews. Peer review was implemented by the participation of a fellow

MTJF member as a voting and reviewing member of the doctoral committee.

86 Simultaneous data collection and analysis took place, as the proposed coding method was iterative, and the early interviews were transcribed and analyzed while the later interviews were taking place. Member checking, the back and forth consultation with participants regarding transcriptions, themes, and interpretations was used for quality assurance and for accuracy of intent. Each narrative was transcribed and was initially coded to allow for negative case analysis (seeking examples contrary to emergent themes). Thick/rich descriptions were a target for both Sets of the interviews, and those descriptions were conveyed through all transcripts and through the outcomes reported following the completion of the study.

Morrow (2005) argued that the quality and trustworthiness of a qualitative inquiry must be assessed based on the “paradigmatic underpinnings of the research and the standard of the discipline” (p. 250). She described authenticity criteria (fairness, ontological authenticity, educative authenticity, catalytic authenticity, and tactical authenticity) as most relevant to trustworthiness in constructivist research. Fairness entails seeking and including of differing constructions. Ontological authenticity requires that the emergent themes from each participant are “improved, matured, expanded, and elaborated” (p. 252). Educative authenticity demands that participants are active learners and develop respect for others’ contributions in the development of constructs. Catalytic authenticity refers to the initiation of action. Implementation of most of these authenticity criteria is appropriate for this study. Catalytic authenticity may not be appropriate for narrative methodologies, as the aim of co-construction is central and involves the recording experiences and to co-construct meaning, truth, and knowledge based on those experiences, not to initiate change.

87 Summary

Very few clinical MTs possess the educational background and training to be proficient professors upon entrance to the academy. These MTJF members experience an immense learning curve when transitioning from the clinical arena to the academy. That burden could be reduced by improvements and modifications to the music therapy graduate curriculum, but data are necessary to intimate and to guide those changes.

Through the participation of seven MTJF members in semi-structured interviews and through the participation of an additional two MTJF members in corroborating interviews, this study aimed to collect the narratives of their lived experiences during their first five years in the academy. Based on Transformative Learning Theory

(Mezirow, 1991), and being interpreted through a social constructivism paradigm, this study aimed to weave their collected stories into necessary data to validate propositions to changes in educational preparation of future music therapy professors.

CHAPTER IV

NARRATIVES

The purpose of this narrative research study was to explore the lived experiences of

MTJF members as they sought to become successful academicians. This narrative study sought to collect stories of the lived experiences of MTFJ members and to weave the collected stories into data to be used to validate suggestions to modify the music therapy graduate curriculum in order to better prepare MTs for futures in academia. The following research questions guided the collection of these narratives:

• What are the lived experiences of MTJF members during their first five years in

the academy?

• How do MTJF members gain institutional knowledge and experience faculty

socialization as members of the academy?

• How do MTJF members view their professional identity development over time?

Clandinin (2013) identified two different starting places for narrative inquiry: a researcher engaged in conversations with participants who share their stories, or a researcher comes alongside the participant’s living. This inquiry began from the more common first type, where I, the researcher, engaged in conversations with the participants through the use of the semi-structured interviews. However, she also described how a

89 researcher can move into living alongside participants. Clandinin wrote, “Narrative inquirers always enter into research relationships in the midst” (p. 43). She further described how the researcher is in the midst of life, and the participant is in the midst of life, where the midst includes all aspects of both individuals’ lives, including their professional, personal, cultural, social, political, familial, and linguistic narratives. When the researcher and the participant enter into the inquiry relationship, then they come into a shared midst. Furthermore, Clandinin (2013) stated that researchers situate themselves in relational ways with their participants.

Because of my positionality and because I met the participation criteria, I was already situated within a common context with my participants and shared several narrative spaces (e.g. professional, linguistic, academy). For the sake of rigor and transparency, I have prefaced each narrative with additional information detailing my relationship and relational space to each participant.

Retelling

The art of retelling or restorying is a part of narrative methodology. Clandinin and

Connelly (1998) described four key terms in narrative inquiry that emerged from their work and from their view of experiences as storied phenomenon: living, telling, retelling, and reliving. The meaning of the first two terms was simple – individuals live life, which give them stories to tell. Retelling and reliving were more complex. Retelling was defined as the process of coming alongside participants and inquiring into their stories.

Reliving is their final term, and it suggested that as stories are retold, the people co- constructing the retelling of the story are changed, and therefore, the stories become relived by the participants. For example, one may experience an event that was

90 embarrassing or frightening at the time it occurred, but as one retells the story to friends, over time that individual relives the story and may experience a change in feelings regarding the experience. They may find humor in or gain strength from the experience.

Consider the colloquialism, “You’ll laugh about it later.”

The following brief narratives are collections of the participants’ retold stories from the Set One interviews. Each narrative opens with some background on my relationship with the participant, which provides context for the “midst” into which we entered together. The type of institution and some background regarding their respective programs is included. Their choice of location and time for the interview is also revealed. I aimed to paint some of the midst of each participant’s life, including professional, personal, cultural, social, political, familial, and linguistic narratives.

Allie

Allie is an assistant professor at a respected R1 institution and is about to embark on the final review of her dossier for tenure. She does not hold the title of program director, but she works very closely with her music therapy colleague who is the program director and who has been at the institution for many years. Allie and I have a history of casual acquaintance, but we have not had the pleasure of working or schooling together.

This interview was our first in-depth, one-to-one interaction. Our interview opens as

FaceTime connects, revealing Allie in her work office and me in my home office. We greet each other, with me sending gratitude for her willingness to participate and Allie responding that she likes to “pay research karma forward.” We then began to visit and to work our way through the interview protocol. This interview was the first interview conducted, and it remained the lengthiest at over 90 minutes.

91 The path to the profession of music therapy began for Allie in high school. Her mother was a teacher in special education and strongly encouraged Allie to work with children with disabilities for work. Allie enjoyed working with the children and frequently enjoyed instruction and feedback from her mother during work hours on the art of interacting and teaching children with disabilities. Allie took to it like a fish in water. Quickly, she learned how to incorporate her love for singing and music to the instruction of the children with disabilities. She also created group learning opportunities for the children with disabilities and children with typical development. Allie observed how the music and the interaction between the children improved the experiences for all members of the group. These experiences ignited her interest about inclusion of children with disabilities and led Allie to pursuing a college experience involving music.

…because my classes were way more fun than my private lessons because I had

enough kids where we could play games, and so I would often start children with

disabilities in private lessons and then would move them into my group classes so

they could interact with other kids and so we could actually play games with other

kids…that was my first introduction, so I started looking at music education

programs because I was like, “I wanna work with kids with music.”

Allie had planned to be a music teacher and work near where she grew up. The school district in her community required a master’s degree to win and keep desirable teaching jobs, so she was well-aware of the number of years of education she had in front of her. The institution she chose to attend not only promised her tons of experiences with typical children in the classroom but also promised to assist her in finding a graduate

92 program in music therapy to work with kids with disabilities. In her time there, she gained more experience than she had imagined she would:

…my clinical practica were teaching from whenever school started until

whenever I had to be back for choir at 11:30am, and so my junior year, I was

teaching three to four hours a day in music classrooms in additional to the

semester I did student teaching…I had a tremendous amount of experience

working with children during my undergrad degree program.

Allie’s undergraduate experienced ended with a music education degree and her faculty assisting her in locating the graduate school that had music therapy equivalency.

She explored several programs. Most interestingly, she was not accepted into one of the schools, to which her faculty supports were surprised; however, Allie later recognized what a blessing the rejection was. After beginning her graduate program, she quickly realized that in music therapy the philosophical differences among schools are immense and that she would not have thrived in the one institution’s program, as her philosophy of music therapy was not in-line with theirs. She recalled thinking, “Oh, gosh, I owe those people a nice fruit basket.” Allie now goes to the length of stating that she likely would have been miserable there and that the entire experience now all makes sense.

Allie was a quick study in her master’s equivalency program. With the great amount of experience she had, she was able to complete the degree in 12 months. That timeline was imperative for her interests in gaining internship in a school setting, which she successfully won and completed. After completing her internship, she was back writing her thesis and decided to take a couple summer courses. She took a college teaching class, taught by a professor who is considered a pillar in music education and

93 music therapy. Although the idea of working in higher education may have been sitting in the back of her mind for some time, Allie recognizes that course as the impetus for her launch into higher education. Another essential experience took place during this pivotal year. Allie worked in a dean’s administrative office where she was exposed to a great deal of the internal happenings of the institution. She became familiar with how dossiers were developed, created, and reviewed. She became familiar with institutional contracts and salaries. She became familiar with data basing of scholarly activity and ranking of applicants. Allie conveys how advantageous that position was, noting “I got so much knowledge from that assistantship of how higher ed worked that even going to the next institution, I think I had a better understanding than most people.”

After several horrific job interviews, Allie was visiting with one of her graduate faculty mentors and mentioned how much she had enjoyed the college teaching class.

The mentor was elated and told Allie that there was a job with her name on it. The mentor requested her resumé and within ten days, Allie secured a visiting professorship.

Later in the fall when she ran into her graduate professors, they inquired how she liked the teaching. She replied, “Yeah! I wanna do this forever!” and they replied, “Yeah, we know…that’s why we helped get you this job.”

Allie’s visiting professorship ended when a full-time tenure track line was filled.

Allie got her teaching license transferred and went on the job hunt. She recalled,

My life plan, at this point, was to teach music for three years, to go and practice as

a music therapist for three years, and then go back to school, because with the

magic three years, in both the classroom and as a music therapist, it would allow

me to teach in either music ed or music therapy.

94 Allie successfully won a teaching position, but she recalls how that position ground her into the dirt. Not only was she overworked and disrespected, she was even reprimanded for utilizing her excellent music skills during the fourth graders’ play because the other music teachers’ skills reflected poorly in comparison to hers. Even now, Allie uses herself as an example to her current college students regarding retention of teachers in the classroom. She tells them, “I’m one of the people who did not retain [as a music educator in the classroom] that was me, you don’t think this could be you, but it can…” After that year, feeling unappreciated and burned out, Allie joined some friends in their non-profit music therapy agency. During her time there, she was able to adjunct for professors at a local university who were out on maternity leave. She gained an immense amount of clinical experience during these years, especially with children on the autism spectrum.

After several years, Allie realized that she was ready to return to university for graduate school. She recalled, “I’m not going to go back and teach [k12 music], that ship has sailed, I’m not going back in the classroom.”

Allie knew her mind and her interests – both led her to a program in the state in which she lived and to a mentor who she was confident would guide her and assist her in meeting her goals. Allie recalled, “I was like, ‘this is it!’ Um, but I was not sure that I was going to get in…but I was admitted.” The program was unique in that it only accepts the number of doctoral students that it can fully fund. The interview is extensive, intense, and very intimidating. One of her graduate school mentors highly encouraged her to pursue the program and the doctoral mentor. Allie was not disappointed. The mentor was all she had hoped for and more, as were the other professors at this institution.

95 Interestingly, during her doctoral work, she was able to do a great deal of college teaching, including teaching the same class over time, which gave her the opportunity to develop the course. Allie stated, “I taught the non-major class piano, and I taught the same thing for six semesters, and so I got that experience of how to tweak a class over time.” Allie then relayed many memories of the students she taught in that course. Her affection for those students, most who were college athletes, was transformative. To this day, she claims to watch college sports differently.

I kid you not, I had 16 pianos in that class and every semester, 12 of those 16

were occupied by student athletes. One semester, I had the entire defensive line

in my class. I was a football fan-ish before. I became a college football fan

working with these students, and I will tell you that watching college football,

having known the brains underneath those helmets is a totally different experience

than watching college football without knowing those kids.

Allie relayed how she also had the privilege of assisting in advanced collegiate courses in the areas of her interest with her dedicated doctoral mentor. She now recognizes the skills she developed in college teaching, especially the differences between majors and non-majors and how best to teach each group. She attributes her skills to her doctoral mentors, “and watching [them] put in practice what they preach, as far as teaching, was…I just can’t imagine a better college teaching practice environment than that.” She further reminisces about her doctoral professor mentors, particularly her direct professor mentor

you know, phenomenal mentorship…we continue to work, write, and research

together…this program valued collaboration every step along the way and

96 modeled that and encouraged that for us…again, the level of mentorship is to the

nth degree…those relationships have stuck in a very meaningful way.

Allie now recognizes the tasks of dissertation writing and college professor similar:

…writing a dissertation was the ultimate spinning of all of the plates, which is the

perfect metaphor for college teaching…it [dissertation writing] is this arcane

academic process that we’ve held on to, but then you really see how it helps

[when one transitions to professor] in that “let me keep these different plates

spinning at all times’ and sometimes they’re spinning a little faster, and other

times, they’re not, and I know that I need to keep them all spinning.”

Allie’s transition to a full-time tenure track position at her current institution was an excellent position to win; however, she found herself thrust into the storm of an institution seeking Research 1 status, which placed a great deal of pressure on new faculty to be productive. The institution provided a great deal of support to new faculty members, particularly in the first year. Allie recalled the abundant expectations and event requirements that first year:

…the amount of social things that were on this first-year calendar of mine was

obscene, and it was overwhelming...being in the school of music, I was also going

to a lot of concerts my first year…there were many weeks that I had two or three

things [faculty and student concerts, committee meetings, first-year professor

events].

The institution also required attendance at two of three courses offered to

new professors within their first three years. Allie conveyed that after the first

year, the support seems to abruptly stop. “You, kind of, just get dropped off…at

97 the end of your first year, then it all, that support…it’s gone…just bottoms out.”

She animatedly recalled how the new faculty actually flock to the events, “We

have a dean who really values social things, so, all of these events had an open bar

and a full buffet. These are my dinners!”

Given Allie’s gratitude for having been well-mentored and well-prepared for academic life, she did recall some day-to-day tasks for which she felt less prepared:

“…because I had been through a music ed doc program, I didn’t have syllabi ready…my mentor didn’t have an ‘Intro to Music Therapy’ syllabus to give me.” This particular example developed further into another area of professorship that can be challenging.

Allie essentially stepped onto the ladder of a program where one member retired, and the others stepped up the ladder. Because of the tight history and rich traditions of the program, Allie found herself treading lightly on making modifications to the courses, desiring to respect the past, while keeping with contemporary practice. She recalls the push and pull of her reasoning.

So there was this interesting, what do I leave in, what do I take out? How much

do I leave the same versus how much to I completely renovate? I don’t want to

be the person that wrecks [the program founder’s] syllabus. I mean, she taught

for 30 years, why would I take this beautiful thing that she’s crafted over time and

just be like, ‘Pish, no, I’m not gonna listen to her”?

Over time and by working with her own doctoral mentors, she navigated through what to keep and how to make meaningful changes while respecting those who crafted the course before her.

98 Allie now credits her excellent relationship with her primary colleague as one advantage to being successful. The two had known each other for some time before Allie applied for her position. According to Allie, she and this colleague function very well as a team, recognizing each other’s areas of expertise and maximizing on those differences to the best benefit of their students and to the best benefit of their time and efforts. She also maintains a friendly relationship with the retired professor, who frequently acts as another professional mentor to Allie. In fact, this mentor recently encouraged Allie to increase her current attendance at other departmental events, particularly faculty recitals and ensemble performances so that her music colleagues would be pleased with her dedication and support for their work prior to her final review for tenure.

Allie fully appreciates her colleagues from other areas, as well. She works and researches with her music education counterparts, referring to their collaboration as

“hitting the jackpot,” whereby they even share their graduate students. Allie appreciates how these music education colleagues are able to write sections of her support letters in different ways that can her music therapy colleagues.

Regarding the tenure process, Allie stated that she was very prepared for what she needed to do, but then she followed that the “handbook is fairly clear.” The college handbook specifies that she must write an article per year; however, it does not specify what type of article. Allie stated that her reviewing colleagues seem to be flexible with the types of articles, where some may think the articles should be peer reviewed and others less so. Allie conveyed that she has worked to maintain some type of scholarship that is peer-reviewed, such as a presentation, even if it is not a journal article. Allie shared that much of her scholarship is published in music education journals, and even

99 went on to question how music therapy professors are able to meet publication and scholarship expectations given that the field only has two journals in the United States.

Where ambiguity, suggested in Allie’s qualified use of “fairly clear,” emerged was in the role of active engagement in service and conferences. There was little in writing regarding these areas. Allie was confident that she has met expectations in those areas or that she has appropriately remedied any concerns in those areas by stating,

…because I’ve had such good mentorship, I know how to read my

letter…Because those letters give you things to do…and you either have someone

who you share your letter with, and they’re like, “Oh, this is how to write this

next year so they know that you’ve done this.”

Allie further recognized the advantage of her strong experiences with excellent mentorship in terms of learning how to follow an unwritten protocol for securing promotion and tenure when she stated

Those people who have someone either within the department or a mentor from

graduate school to go to are the ones who you can tell are really correcting things.

Whereas the ones who don’t have that, who don’t seek that, we’ll see how things

go.

Allie then detailed how her music therapy colleague mentored her on the art of the cover letter and the summary letter for her tenure materials. Although not a requirement to include such letters, tenured faculty have approached Allie, complimenting her file and suggesting that hers is much easier to navigate, given those summaries. Because her institution is very large and there are always many reviews to take place, Allie knows that

100 small advantages, like reviewers finding her dossier easier to review, will benefit her as she continues on her path to tenure.

At her institution, she is reviewed for progress each year, and she actually can view the votes, although they are anonymous. Allie described reading her annual review:

I don’t see who votes what, obviously, it’s a closed ballot, if you will, but I can

see the number of people who have rated me on a scale of one to five in teaching,

service, and research. I can see the number of people who have rated either the

yes-no extension for retain, which is just a weird thing to see…when you log into

the system…some years people give out the heads up like “someone’s pissy about

something. Everyone in your year got one abstain vote this year. Don’t let that

freak you out.”

These annual reviews are viewed by the tenured faculty through an electronic system Allie stated was widely considered to be “wonky.” She humorously states that through this electronic system, the institution “requires an obscene amount of documentation.” Allie thoughtfully reflects on how some of her peers at other institutions are able to merely submit an updated curriculum vitae but how those institutions are generally smaller and are unable to offer the kind of support that she receives from her institution. She stated, “I’m very fortunate for my load…for institutional support and director support and dean support…” and shared about the financial support her music therapy program has received for equipment and for additional staff support for clinical scheduling.

Allie finds additional support from community both inside and outside the university, which seems especially influential given what she refers to as her “small

101 college town." In some cases, these communities overlap. She told a story about going out to lunch with one group of friends who share an interest in exercise, and one of the members is a tenured faculty member from another department. When they lunch, they talk tenure. He has experience with the tenure process and even serves on the college- wide committee. Allie conveys how these relationships across communities and interests have purchased her social capital that would not have otherwise been available to her.

Other friendly relationships include wives of faculty members in athletics, colleagues in other departments and colleges, and other friends in common. She jokingly includes,

“everyone knows you, like, so don’t go outside in your pajamas. Don’t make an idiot of yourself…!” These relationships further stem from service opportunities. Allie was assigned to one university level committee where she has been able to strengthen ties with programs across campus and is utilizing those ties to enhance training and clinical opportunities for the music therapy students.

Ken

Ken is an assistant professor at a renowned music therapy program at an R1 institution. He made time during his weekend to visit with me. I was humbled to dial his email via Skype, knowing how precious time is. Our interview opened with Ken at his home computer, and I was in my home office. As we made our introductions, Ken’s pet came to visit him, which offered me a glimpse into his personal life as we went on to discuss his path to where he is today professionally. I have not had the pleasure of knowing Ken previously. With the field of music therapy being relatively small and our faculty force very small, I know well of Ken’s work and accomplishments. We share numerous common friends, but this interview was our first meeting. During my long-

102 winded explanation of the study, its origins, and its progress, Ken listened carefully and responded with affirmations, such as “right” and “yeah.” Some aspects of what I was describing must have been meaningful to Ken, as he was generous with his time and with his sharing of his experiences and his thoughts.

Ken graduated high school before he came to music, although he had always had an interest in music. He stated:

I was always interested in music. Drumming was always in the back of my mind,

it was just not something I did. And I was not certainly at that time, the kind of

person that was interested in being in drumline, at, at the high school…it was

probably…between six months and a year after that I had graduated high school, I

bought a drum set with no training at all and started playing in underground rock

bands and having no idea what I was doing but having some understanding of

rhythm…And then watching people...let me see if I can emulate that, and learn

through that.

The second band with whom he played travelled nationally and gained notoriety; however, Ken recalled his realization that even moderate success as a band did not equate to rent being paid. He soon decided that he wanted to study music, as a drummer, he understood rhythm and learned through emulation, but he desired to learn about music.

Ken recalled thinking, “I really love what I’m doing. But it’s not, number one, gonna pay the bills. And number two, I need to learn a lot more about it.” He attended a couple of community colleges, one particularly excellent, to begin formal study, and then Ken went to a large jazz studies program at a university. He felt that he was missing interpersonal

103 interaction while playing alone in a practice room. Soon, he had an interaction that would change his life’s course.

…there was this Thai restaurant I used to love to go to, and the manager was

there, um, was asking (cause I went there all the time). So she came up, you

know, just tell me more about yourself. I became the Norm of the Thai restaurant.

And I said, “yeah, you know, I’m planning on going to [university]”…and she

goes, “Oh yeah, well, I’m gonna go up there to [university] and study music

therapy”…[I responded], “Well tell me about music therapy.” So she tells me

about it. I was like, that’s great. So this thing sits in the back of my head for a

while. I go up and start studying and I’m there for a year and a half…and I’m

loving everything but I’m not finding the kind of connection with people that I

want.

Ken had some complex life situations taking place at the same time he was realizing his studies were lacking the interpersonal connection he desired. He began exploring geographically close programs that hosted music therapy programs.

Regardless of the complexities, he relented, “well, of course. This is a bit more up your alley, what you want to do to connect with people….and so I enrolled there and just never looked back.” He transferred and began to study music therapy. Music therapy incorporated all of his music interests along with his desire to interact and to work with other people. He completed his bachelor’s degree and interned at a medical center. Ken particularly recalled appreciating the freedoms he enjoyed at his internship.

…really enjoyed that and it was an opportunity for me to, um, work in

104 improvisational modes and, and um, think in terms of in the moment and really

meeting clients, and I was given a lot of freedom there to do things. It was an

internship with not tons of structure, which worked well for me.

This level of freedom and lack of structure likely worked well for Ken since he was a non-traditional undergraduate student who had come to music therapy very organically with a focus far more mature than most traditional undergraduate students. This experience set Ken up to become the very successful clinical music therapist that he did.

Ken began work in a large school district, and he also immediately went to graduate school for his master’s degree in music therapy. He recalled how doing both served the best of both purposes.

…my advanced practica, the way I asked for them to be set up, included working

with one client doing a case study, asking to be supervised while supervising

students, practicum students, and I asked to teach a class. They actually gave me

that. They were very generous with me so I, I’m thankful for that. But that was

my opportunity to teach percussion and music therapy, which of course led to lots

of great trajectories for me. And I just think in general, those opportunities and

experiences, … probably were the bug that already existed and where I wanted to

go [into a career in higher education] but [those experiences and opportunities

were opportunities] that perhaps not all master’s degree students experience in the

same way.

In addition to these opportunities and experiences that planted the professorship seed in Ken’s mind, his journey to higher education involved several other critical experiences that led him back to the classroom for his doctoral degree. One of these

105 critical experiences happened on a trip to New York with his wife. During that trip, he had the opportunity to visit one of the premiere graduate music therapy programs and to meet one of the foundational pillars of the profession, Clive Robbins. This visit planted the doctoral seed in Ken’s mind. Ironically, it was another trip that prompted another critical experience for Ken. He and his wife went to a neighboring state to visit a friend who was attending the university for doctoral studies in music therapy. This friend happened to organize an impromptu interview with the university’s music therapy faculty for Ken. He was flattered, yet a little blindsided. He stated, “I was like, ‘oh, okay, that’s what’s going on.’” This visit, however, nourished the planted seed. Several months later, Ken met with the program coordinator from the program at a conference and promised to come to school in three years’ time. Ken relayed to the coordinator that he needed that amount of time to prepare to move his family and to be sure finances and such were in place to allow him to fully focus on the doctoral program. The coordinator agreed to have a spot waiting for him for the fall semester, three years in the future. Both

Ken and the coordinator kept to the agreement. About himself, Ken said, “I tend to be pretty deliberate about those kinds of things. Or hyper-deliberate, perhaps.”

Ken recalled many of his doctoral education experiences with affection and appreciation. He relayed how the doctoral students were granted access to experiences that were invaluable, all the while being protected from the majority of the political bureaucracy of the institution. Ken discussed how he was able to teach most of the courses in the music therapy program, how he received feedback on teaching, and supervised many students. One specific point that Ken described was how he found a particular mentor who actively engaged him in dialogue and discourse and how he took

106 an independent study with that mentor, where they discussed philosophies of music learning and differences. This relationship was critical to Ken’s development in that he was able to dialogue about conceptual thoughts that were well-beyond typical curriculum of doctoral students. This relationship and the experiences he had within the relationship constituted a pivotal experience that set him on a trajectory of scholarship that is unique and very philosophical.

After the doctoral program, Ken won a position at a university in the eastern

United States. His position was developing well, and he enjoyed the faculty and the institution; however, his wife’s career was stunted by the abundance of the state’s bureaucratic red tape with regard to licensure in the areas in which she practices.

Another full-time, tenure-track position that appealed to Ken was open, which happened to be back closer to family and to the educational area where Ken was so successful previously. He chose to interview. The interview was thorough and direct, both of which

Ken appreciated. Ken won the position.

The R1 institution, at which Ken now is employed, has offered him levels support and challenge that suit him perfectly. The challenges include meeting the required 1.5 peer-reviewed publication per year and maintaining excellent teaching and service to institution and profession. Interestingly, Ken conveyed the perplexing concept of

“major” publications versus “minor” publications and how one may plan for two “major” publications over three years or how one may create equivalent “minor” publications to meet the “requirement.” He continued that the ambiguity, which seems to become more flexible and expansive over time, lies in what exactly constitutes “major” and “minor” in the field of music therapy.

107 Ken frequently referred back to how grateful he is for the guidance and mentorship of his colleagues. He specifically mentioned how mentors have given him invaluable advice. One particular sage piece that Ken conveyed was “I’ve never been discouraged to speak…but I’ve been encouraged to listen a lot.” Ken recognizes that he has more to offer, but that timing in institutions of higher education require somewhat of a strategy. He has been protected by senior colleagues and by his dean from unappreciated tasks and from tasks not helpful for tenure. Furthermore, his program and departmental colleagues have been very supportive in sharing institutional knowledge.

Ken described his learning curve as a professional for several areas of development:

…Understanding how to set boundaries, how to set a schedule that, that works with my needs, but also taking care of the rigor you’re dealing with every single day…How to interact with your peers. How to interact with students. How to meet students where they’re at so that your evaluations are gonna come back in a way that are helpful to you. I mean, in a, in a way, how to teach them how to evaluate you without you leading them to evaluate you inappropriately, if that makes sense…I tend to be not only deliberate but perhaps transparent, perhaps overly transparent at times. I’ve found it often to be valuable.

Although Ken may feel highly supported by administration and his colleagues, he does feel the tensions of bureaucracy and terse interactions of other faculty members. He conveyed this challenge:

There were certain dynamics I was privy to as a PhD student that probably helped

108 prepare me for some things. Certain dynamics I saw at [first institution]. There

were certain dynamics I see at [institution]. Which are, are new…but it can’t be

totally unexpected. I mean, it’s just, it’s human behavior.

Ken continues his interests in philosophical and existential thought about differences, applying these thoughts not only to music therapy but also to scholarship.

Ken’s affect was energized as he referred to the work of scholars in the field, “You talk about Gaston and Sears and you talk about Clair and what they were writing in terms of theory and philosophy. And I’m carrying on the tradition. It’s not gonna look the same at all.” Whereas some institutional colleagues have expressed feeling trapped or limited in what is considered scholarship, Ken has advocated for acceptance of all types of scholarship, suggesting a broadening of what constitutes work toward tenure. He stated,

“You have to be able to back up what you’re doing.” Ken views his lines of research less in terms of a singular line: “It’s more of a set of lines or a rhizome, or whatever you want to call it. It’s a bunch of connected considerations.”

Ken published a piece in one of the most respected music therapy journals, and I complimented him on the work. His affect brightened, and we enjoyed a philosophical discussion on the state of music therapy as an evidence-based practice. I inquired, “Is music therapy behind?” His response was a thoughtful, “hmm...that is a tough question to answer...” He continued to ponder for several seconds. I was able to allow him that time to think, as I was highly motivated to hear his philosophical and thoughtful response. He then responded:

I think we tended to be behind. I don’t know if we’ve fallen further behind, but I

think we’ve tended to be behind because we’re younger...one of the things that

109 might be holding us back, or maybe it was a mandatory step, but perhaps some

rigid splitting of these theories has also held us back…but being able to articulate

new types of celebration of diversity and celebration of differences [regarding

philosophies]. But also challenging them, simultaneously is what I hope to

do…maybe I can contribute to that.

Lynn

Lynn is an assistant professor at a very well-respected music therapy program at an R1 institution. Our interview took place via Skype with Lynn in her work office and me in my home office. She scheduled to visit during a break in between two courses she teaches. Lynn and I know each other well and have enjoyed over a decade professional friendship. We cheer each other’s accomplishments and have respect for each other’s work and educational lineage. I was very eager to hear the stories she has to share with me, as I have only witnessed the outcomes of her choices and the observable aspects of her career and have had little understanding of her inner-thoughts or of the tough decisions that she has made.

When I asked Lynn how it was that she came to the profession of music therapy, she shared a great story about her journey to the profession. Lynn comes from a long line of educators. Her early love for music resulted in her pursuing a degree in music education from a small liberal arts college not too far from her family. Lynn was fully engaged as a music educator in a moderately sized, midwestern community. She was tasked with teaching a large variety of music classes from general music to fifth and sixth graders, to conducting the chorale, to teaching a special education preschool class. Lynn recalled:

110 I noticed that there was a huge change in their [particularly the young students

and preschoolers in special education] behavior when music was used and

when it wasn’t. So, I thought, well, what is this, this is interesting. And my dad

had given me some pamphlets about music therapy, and he would always cut out

new articles about music therapy…so that was always in the back of my mind.

One summer, she decided to take two one semester classes at a university nearby for continuing education credits for teaching. One of the courses was about using music in special education, which happened to be taught by one of the most well-respected music therapists who writes the textbooks on music therapy in special education – although Lynn was not aware of this professor’s résumé. This course introduced Lynn to music therapy. “And it just really fascinated me, how, you know, you could use music to help people in a different way than I had previously thought.” The following year, she continued to think of the course, the instructor, and music therapy. One day, she decided to phone the instructor of the summer course, still not recognizing that the instructor was a pillar in the music therapy community and a leader among the scholars of music therapy. This professor took Lynn’s call, visited with her, and led Lynn to making the decision to return to school for a graduate degree in music therapy. Lynn visited with the other professor at the university regarding graduate teaching assistantships and other opportunities, and then decided, “’Okay, I think I’m gonna do this.’ So, then I went back for my graduate equivalency degree…”

Lynn pursued the master’s equivalency in music therapy. During this time, she had the opportunity to serve as a graduate teaching assistant (GTA) for the music education program, since she was a certified teacher. Because she was in the music

111 therapy equivalency program, she was not yet qualified to teach in that major. She completed the coursework quickly for the degree, but she had a gap before starting her internship. She worked and prepared herself for internship, which took her far away from home. After completing internship, Lynn returned to home and worked as a contract music therapist, which is a type of practice were a music therapy company hold contracts with agencies and then subcontracts with an independent music therapist to provide the therapeutic intervention. At the encouragement of her graduate professors, she introduced her internship project to the music therapists at an established hospital program. They loved the project and, much to Lynn’s surprise, offered her a position at the program. Lynn recalled her thoughts about that day:

[Mentor professors] encouraged me to go talk to them [music therapists at the

hospital program] and share this project that I had done at internship. It’s called

the [name] book and it just is kind of a silly book. Not a silly book, a silly name

for a book that had hundreds of popular songs that I had figured out because at

that time, you know, there wasn’t a lot online…and so I brought that in and just

thinking that they might be interested in this resource, so I was gonna share it with

them. And it turned into an interview. And that was a little unexpected…but then

I received that position at [hospital], which is why I stayed [in the area].

With Lynn’s rich familial tradition in education, she did not stay out of the classroom for long. She decided to take a grant writing class, and being the student that she is, Lynn thought, “well, you know, if I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do this right.”

The professor encouraged her to submit the grant to a national grant competition, and she won the grant. Lynn laughed as she recalled, “And then that was like, ‘Okay, I guess I’m

112 doing my PhD now.’” Lynn then pursued a PhD in music education, with emphasis in music therapy. Lynn was now qualified to teach within the music therapy program and teach she did. She taught numerous courses, provided clinical supervision, and continued to work halftime at the hospital. She also developed personal pursuits during this time.

She was married and became a step mom.

Of her doctoral professors, Lynn recalls their support with warm affection in her voice. “…they were very supportive. And I learned a lot from both of them. About how to teach, and how to work with students.” I asked if she felt she had learned similar things from both professors or if they offered different areas of expertise. Lynn thoughtfully responded, “I think with [one mentor], it was more teaching and supervision.

And with [another mentor], it was more research. And, you know, I think that they were a good combination to have together.”

After completing her doctoral coursework, Lynn won a professorship out east and left with her husband, leaving behind the foundational support of their extended families.

The institution where Lynn began work was situated in a beautiful area, and she very much enjoyed her first experiences with the academy. The institution did not offer a traditional tenure, but rather a progression to a 3-year continuation. The institution was more teaching focused than research-oriented. Lynn experienced the heavy workload of teaching 12 credit hours per semester and found she had very little time for re-writing her dissertation. She lamented, “I got there in [year], and it didn’t actually come out until [4 years later] because it just, it took so long. I just didn’t have time.”

While Lynn was a neophyte professor, she also became a mother. The distance between her family and their extended family became almost unbearable. At the pleading

113 of their families, Lynn began to seek openings at institutions closer to home. A very established program advertised an open tenure-track position. Lynn had doubts that she would even be considered, “and quite honestly, I never thought I would get it, but I had to try for my family.” Lynn won the position. Several of the senior faculty were well- aware of Lynn’s academic history and her academic lineage. This history and lineage served her well. Additionally, Lynn may have underestimated the influence of winning a national grant competition and graduating from a topic doctoral program. Clearly, the senior faculty recognized Lynn’s potential.

Since her arrival at the institution, her departmental and school senior colleagues have worked to shelter her from tasks and assignments that do not contribute to the tenure venture. Lynn recognized and appreciated the guidance of the senior faculty. During her first year, she was assigned a mentor from the senior faculty, and Lynn was in awe of her opportunity to work with her faculty mentor. Lynn says to this day, “What [she] says, is what I do,” and “she’s very wise, and knowledgeable, and pragmatic. And she will tell you like it is in the nicest, kindest way possible.” Lynn was heartfully appreciated of her assigned mentor and her other colleagues’ advice and guidance. She talked about two other senior faculty members, one even retired, who checked on her to be sure she was doing okay and was on the right track. All of the current music therapy faculty members met weekly, and Lynn stated that she enjoys having the different opinions and viewpoints from her colleagues. Furthermore, Lynn appreciates the multitudes of support provided by the institution.

There’s a lot of research support, there’s a lot of teaching support. I try to be as

active as I can in all those areas. So, I work with the Center for Teaching

114 Excellence, and the Center for Undergraduate Research. I work with the

university libraries, just any resource I can get my hands on. I’ve found that was

really helpful to help me prepare course, to help with my research. There’re just

so many opportunities where you can get feedback and help and support.

Lynn has been very creative in how she has built her lines of research. She recognized that she did not have much of a research plan in mind, and she struggled stating:

This was just me not really knowing what I was doing. You know, I had my

dissertation, I had this wealth of knowledge. Didn’t really know what to do with

it. So that was kind of my first step, was to, submit that for publication.

Next, Lynn experienced a moment of hardship as she worked to no avail to establish herself a clinical site where she would be able to be a clinician researcher. The geographical location of her institution was somewhat limited in the type of facility of

Lynn’s clinical expertise. This “failure” experience is notable to Lynn, as she had envisioned herself as being able to establish a research line in the same locale in which she conducted music therapy sessions. Lynn quickly followed that story with how she reframed and found a new research line that was very natural for her.

She realized that there were gaps in resources available to music therapy professors and figured those gaps could provide her with a rich research agenda. A colleague even reminded her, “You’re teaching students for our future that doesn’t yet exist.” She laughed as she told the story this way:

I was teaching, and I realized that, well, what I’m teaching I need resources for

that. Like, how do you teach lyric analysis, how do you teach these other things?

115 So then I thought, “Well, what will help me the most is if I publish these items so

that I can just direct students to them.” And that’s their reading for the module.

Furthermore, from her own experiences, Lynn recognized the need for students to experience the research process in order to best understand it.

…teaching classes about qualitative research I was like, ‘Well, why don’t we just

run a research study instead of having all those throw away assignments that

nobody ever looks at again,’ So I started incorporating course-based research into

my graduate classes, and then from there it morphed into undergraduate research

as well.

These developments of her scholarship have served her well and have given her direction to continue her lines and development more resources. Lynn reflectively stated that finding ways to connect teaching, research, and clinical work were about “survival” and that she wanted those connections to be helpful and beneficial to her, the students, her clients, and everyone with whom she worked. When I asked if she felt that she juggles her roles and if those multiple roles influenced her professional development, she responded, “I don’t think we ever lose hats, but they definitely change.”

The tenure process is intense at Lynn’s institution, as it is classified as an R1 institution. She is expected to publish 1.5 articles per year, in addition to presenting papers and research posters at conferences. She recalls that those expectations were made clear even at her interview, where she was handed the tenure guidelines. However,

Lynn relayed that most of the institutional knowledge she has gained has been from word of mouth – both from her program colleagues and from her departmental colleagues. She stated

116 [the guidelines] were very clear...But it’s interesting, the more that I’ve been here,

the more I realize that there is room for interpretation within those guidelines that

just seemed very velar from the beginning. And also there…there’s kind of a

culture. The culture of vestiges, like, the expectation of the faculty that you hear

about but aren’t put in writing…and so I’ve been told, “service doesn’t matter,”

“you’re doing too much service,” “for teaching, just stay above a three,” and

“you’ll get tenure through your research.”

Two experiences that Lynn identified as pivotal experiences for her included interactions regarding scholarship, which is not surprising, since the role of researcher still “really blows [her] mind.” The first involved a senior colleague who was reviewing her tenure packet. He, being a well-seasoned, successful faculty member, informed Lynn that she did not have enough publications, and that she likely would not have enough published when it came time for her final review. He highly encouraged her to get more out…quickly. The other experience was provided by a journal editor. Lynn had submitted a manuscript for review and was invited to revise and resubmit. Twice. After the second set of revisions, the article was rejected. Lynn was at a total loss, and said, “I didn’t even know that could happen.” She quickly considered another outlet for that publication, but she recognized that an article may take over two years to actually get published, if it is accepted at all. Both experiences resulted in changes in thought and belief to Lynn, which led to changes in behaviors. She now writes and submits articles more frequently, seeks opportunities for written scholarship through her teaching experiences, and has back-up plans for places to submit scholarship should an article be rejected. Lynn’s story has a very happy ending. She received her letter stating she has

117 met all expectations of her university and will return in the fall with tenure, as an associate professor.

Kasey

Kasey is very new to the academy, working through her second year. She has recently acquired the title of program coordinator at a well-established (although “in transition” program) at an R2 institution. Our interview took place via Skype during the busy middle of the semester. Kasey was in her work office, and I was in my home office.

We have not known each other for very long, but we interact through service commitments at the national level. I am beyond grateful Kasey for her time, as she had recently lost a family member, and I wished to not cause her any additional stress. She already shoulders a great deal of stress and responsibility from work.

Our conversation opened with Kasey catching me up on the events regarding her search to replace the senior colleague. Her program is a well-established program, but according to Kasey, it needs infusion of energy and fresh ideas. Kasey will have a new colleague join her at the institution this coming year, and she very excited about this new hire. She shared that they are already visiting about which courses will be taught by whom and how the other tasks will be divided.

Kasey’s path to the profession was similar to several of the other participants.

When she was trying to decide what to study at college, her mother found a “Top 100

Jobs” article, and music therapy was on the list. “I was really intrigued ‘cause I had never heard of it at that point,” Kasey recalled, but it seemed “so new to me, and I was so involved in performance…” that she was not swayed from pursuing a degree in music education. Laughing, Kasey recalled, “throughout undergrad, I was researching music

118 therapy and following it as a field.” She finished her undergraduate degree in music education and knew she wanted to pursue music therapy as her profession. Kasey quickly returned to school, enrolled in a master’s equivalency program. This program is one of the most established, well-respected programs in the country. Kasey recalled a pivotal experience she had during her studies that charted her future path. “I thought I wanted to work with children with special needs, and then I had a hospital practicum, and then everything changed from there, and I realized that’s where I wanted to be.” Kasey finished that program in five semesters, completed her internship at a hospital setting, and then moved to a new city to begin her clinical work.

Kasey established a new program at a large hospital in the new city. She worked to grow that program to several full-time positions. The program Kasey established is still thriving today. Kasey identified her experiences at that program, particularly supervising practicum students, as the point when she thought teaching might be her biggest interest. She stated, “I just loved to see them develop.” She continued to grow the hospital program by establishing a music therapy internship. Kasey stressed that her work with students was particularly meaningful in observing the interns develop from neophyte student therapists to polished clinicians throughout their six months of working with her.

She returned to the same institution that had granted her master’s degree for her doctoral work. During that time, she had many experiences that helped to prepare her for working as a music therapy professor. “We taught a minimum of two classes each semester throughout the PhD, so it was crazy,” she recalled as she laughed at the memory. She relayed that she always had a syllabus from which to work, but that she

119 frequently added in some material or modernized a reading or two in order to keep the students as current as possible.

Before the ink was dry on her defense paperwork, she was hired to the position she now fills. She explained, “I defended Friday, loaded the house [onto a moving truck] on Saturday, and drove to [institution] to start working the following Monday. I worked the whole summer prepping courses and beginning to make changes to update the curriculum.”

This statement about the curriculum became a topic of focus to Kasey during our visit. She continued with the thought,

…because you know in your PhD, they do a really good job of, you know, you

get to teach, and you’re doing your research, and you have college teaching

classes. But no one really talks about, “Hey, if one day you have to create a

whole new curriculum.”

I then asked her what she did do. “I sought out people who have had to do it. I asked

[name] because I knew she had a similar experience,” she replied. Kasey described how she also searched and found out how other programs, especially highly respected programs, are designing their curriculum. Taking the whole first semester to figure out and to “really see how everything was working,” gave her the time she needed to be confident in her proposed curriculum. She then turned around and presented her ideas to her administration, providing them with the evidence of how these other programs are doing it. She was elated at their level of enthusiasm and support for her proposed changes.

120 When I asked Kasey if she felt prepared for the demands of the academy, she laughed and said, “It’s kind of like my PhD just kept going. I traded classes for administrative stuff.” She further stated that she feels most confident as a researcher and in her administrative and service roles and that teaching is really her greatest challenge.

She continues to strive to improve herself as an instructor and the courses that she teaches. Kasey mentioned, “there’s like all these hidden things that nobody ever says,

‘this is how to do it.’”

Similar to other interviewees, Kasey’s initial interest in entering into the academy stemmed from her joy in observing student therapists develop during supervision experiences, and today, Kasey is still student-focused. When I asked about how she defined being a successful academic, particularly references the triad of responsibilities

(research, teaching, and service), she responded that it was all about student success. She stated, “If the students are successful, then I am successful.” Given this response, so sure of her reasoning for teaching, it seems ironic that she is least confident in her teaching:

I probably felt stronger in the research. Clinical skills, I felt stronger. The

teaching one was always, I mean, yes, I went back, and I did that during my PhD,

but I think that was always an area [laughs], where at first, I was like, “I have no

idea what I’m doing.”

When I asked Kasey about her self-perception of her identity development through this tenure process (recall she is at the very beginning stages), she identified some areas of development for herself.

I definitely think I have grown, well professionally and personally, I feel like I am

121 able to speak up more and be more assertive, because I’ve just been pushed into it

[laughs] so many times. It’s easier for me to have difficult situations, or different

conversations…so, learning to have those tough conversations and, yeah, I think

overall that’s how I’ve grown. I feel like I’ve just gotten strong at being in this

position. Just personality-wise and just speaking out. And yeah, having more

confidence.

Kasey has used her new-found voice in several instances, but one particular interaction with her dean illustrates both her using her voice and finding her strength.

Kasey went to the administrator to discuss reconstituting the graduate program, and the dean shot the idea down cold. Kasey persisted with the reasons that it would benefit the program and would even help to grow the undergraduate program. The dean considered her thoughts, and they were able to reach a compromise for the present, with plans for reconstitution in the near future. Kasey viewed it as a win.

Another area where Kasey has had to find her voice is one that she described with much less pleasure. She had not anticipated her role as gatekeeper to the profession of music therapy. Kasey shared how challenging it has been to counsel students out of the music therapy major, referring back to having the “difficult conversations.” These instances seem to weigh heavily on her heart, as her affect fell, and she became momentarily quiet. She then stated that with her involvement in the admissions of new students, she hoped to have fewer gatekeeping responsibilities by having higher expectations of in-coming students, as she attributed many of the tough conversations to students who likely should never have been admitted to the music therapy program.

122 Our conversation then veered to the tenure process. When I asked Kasey to tell me about tenure, her groan, head roll, and grimace pretty much summed up her thoughts.

However, she responded

Oh, tenure. Um, it has been, … ohhh, man. I think this year, I’ve really had to

work on finding that happy medium of balance. And so, service, you know

everything that I’m doing for AMTA, and on campus, and for the students, and

research…when I came here, they told me, ‘You need to have something going.

You need to be submitting something and you need to have something in the

works.’ And so finding a balance to keep all of that going with

everything…That’s really I think been the biggest struggle, just to find that to

make sure I’m meeting deadlines, and I’m staying on top of things. It’s just so

much.

The institution has offered several programs to help their junior faculty to be successful.

Kasey was given the option of selecting from a couple of senior faculty members who would serve as an assigned mentor to her. She selected someone outside of her area, but who is knowledgeable about the area and who is able to help keep her on track. The university also offered the opportunity to attend a class of junior faculty members on how to manage time and responsibilities, but she laughed as she said, “but I’ve been too busy to go learn how to manage my schedule.” Since Kasey has just completed her second year at her institution, she stated she might still be able benefit from that class after her new colleague is fully on-boarded.

As our visiting time wound down, Kasey circled back to sharing her excitement for welcoming a new colleague this coming year, focusing on how welcome the new

123 energy and enthusiasm is to her. Her optimism about the upcoming year and the further future were evident in her bright affect. “I’m excited,” she said, “I see this person coming in as a partner to help continue to push this program forward.”

Maura

Maura is a dynamic therapist, researcher, and educator who recently experienced inheriting a program at a Carnegie-classified doctoral/professional university (directly below an R2 rating). Maura and I have shared a professional friendship for several years.

We met through a service opportunity in one of the national music therapy associations.

Our interview is scheduled for an afternoon when we are both working from home.

When our Skype connection was made, I saw Maura sitting at her home computer with her dog playing in the background, and she saw me sitting in my home office ready for a visit. We opened our interview with a quick round of catching up, and she kindly asked how the interviews and project was proceeding. Maura had successfully defended her dissertation in the midst beginning her new position and has been following my progress over the last couple of years. I lamented that I do not have as many male participants as I would like to have, and she stated her lack of surprise. We laughed together, and then I opened the interview asking about how she come to the field of music therapy.

Maura’s story begins in her childhood home that she describes as being focused on service to others, compassionate, and kindness. She conveyed that a family member was an art therapist and another a social worker and that she was meant for music therapy.

Well, I did grow up in a family of musicians. We all did music, so I think I

always knew I would probably do something in music. Although, I did go

124 through like the typical things that kids go through. Like, “I’m gonna be a

teacher. I wanna be a marine biologist.”…But I feel like my family was pretty

much helpers. We always volunteered for things and donated money and time to

philanthropic organizations. I think my parent always instilled that kind of value,

caring about your community and fellow people in me. …However, like everyone

else you probably interviewed, I’m pretty sure I thought I invented music

therapy…you know, like “I’ll do psychology and I’ll do music, and I’ll put them

together.

Her path to music therapy was somewhat serendipitous after realizing how she wanted to find a career that incorporated her family values and interests. Maura’s friend was searching for colleges, and Maura happened across a particular university’s website that was quite sophisticated for that day and age. She and I had quite a laugh about the growth of the internet and university websites since that time. This particular website had an excellent section for music therapy. Maura contacted the coordinator, went to meet with her, and never looked back. She completed her undergraduate coursework, followed by an internship at a hospital, and ultimately a bachelor’s degree in music therapy.

She went to work as a clinician. As Maura was attending conferences and reading about new practices, she was always observing other music therapists who she held in highest esteem. Many of these people were professors and clinicians who were publishing about new music therapy techniques and interventions. She felt drawn to joining their ranks; she recalls thinking of the academy as “glamorous.” This belief set her on the trajectory to where she is today.

125 She began her journey to the academy at a very well-respected music therapy program at a popular private university near her home. She completed her master’s degree, having had a great deal of experience teaching and supervising. Maura recalls her supervision experience as “highly supervised supervision,” with productive support from her professors and further stated that she had to “turn in self-evaluations.” After finishing her master’s degree, she was recruited back to that program to earn a doctorate degree. She was granted a teaching assistantship, again, but with the option of continuing to work half time. Maura thought, “a free doctorate degree while I am working…why not?!” She conveyed how she had excellent rapport with the students and how much she enjoyed working with them. During her doctorate program, one of the music therapy seminars dealt with higher education. “…including, but not limited to how to get a job, what the tenure process is like. Also creating rubrics and assessments. We learned about college student development and mapping things we might see in certain classes.” Maura laughed and stated that everything that she was told would happen, did happen, and more.

“Like everything they told me and taught me definitely happened. But also, it’s kind of like nothing can actually prepare you for the real thing,” Maura recalled.

Maura won a tenure-track position at an established program, coming in as a second in line to a seasoned senior faculty member. As with many colleagues, Maura greatly appreciated the amount of institutional knowledge that her colleague shared with her, although she later mentioned that not all of the knowledge was set in institutional stone, but rather just a case of “this is how we have always done it.” In general, though,

Maura stated that the mentor coached Maura on many of the campus ins and outs, as well as supported Maura in her first couple of years.

126 However, this senior faculty member retired from the program, leaving Maura holding reins to a program that she had not intended to coordinate so early in her career.

This role became even more intrusive on Maura’s productivity as the program was reviewed by the academic program committee (an every-10-years event) of AMTA, and the committee called some aspects of the program into question. Maura dealt with the fallout, having to spend a copious amount of time justifying the program and defending selected curricular materials, and educating the committee on modern andragogy.

Maura’s statement and affect suggested she felt the report was more akin to a witch hunt, a battle of philosophical beliefs, and an attempt at micromanagement.

Maura experienced a very steep learning curve, many times seeking help and experiencing what she describes as being “ping-ponged around” in order to get to the correct person who was able to assist her with an issue. “There was a lot of trial and error,” she mentioned. Maura recalled a particularly frightening moment when all of the senior faculty were in a meeting, and she was the only faculty member available to a student seeking help and who was actively suicidal. Maura’s response of anger and frustration from that memory clearly permeated from remembering the fear of her inexperience and lack of assistance from other faculty members.

Maura is fiercely protective of her students and their successes. The students at her institution are largely first-generation students, and Maura continually thinks about their needs and how the music therapy program can have high expectations while providing the support they require. Like Kasey, Maura had not anticipated her role as gatekeeper to the profession.

127 I think there was a little bit of a culture shock of all of a sudden like really being a

gatekeeper. In the academy having to remove students from the program and you

know, just dealing with some of the bureaucracy. I wasn’t quite prepared for that.

Celebrating her students’ successes is clearly one of the highlights of the position.

Maura’s affect brightened as she added with pride that “they are getting jobs…good jobs.” Just as quickly, her affect changed back to reflective with her eyebrows narrowed while she relayed yet another moment of frustration that involved the interaction of both her dedication to her students and the lack of clarity of institutional systems. This case was one of the previously mentioned because-this-is-how-it’s-been-done situations.

I found out a lot of things that were done a certain way in our program didn’t

actually have to be done that way. But nobody thought to ask in this process (she

laughs). So, a lot of things that affected me, for example, our graduate classes

aren’t supposed to run unless there’s five students in them...So, a lot my first

couple years here, I was teaching classes with two or three students, as

independent studies and not getting administrative load for them. So I ended up

teaching, really four courses as semester instead of three. And then I recently said

something to my boss, and he’s like, “Maura, if there are two students that need a

class, I will sign off on it…” And I’m like, “I was told that it didn’t count.”…I

was real pissed about that.

In addition to not gaining the accurate institutional knowledge that she would have found helpful, Maura is experiencing ambiguity with regards to the tenure process.

She recognizes that the tenure guidelines exist; however, she is not confident that all the information is understood by all the parties involved from her, the applicant, to the peer

128 review committee, to the administration, and to the provost. Maura finds herself continually describing and explaining her scholarship to her departmental colleagues.

She stated:

We have applied faculty and then academic faculty, like the theory professors

and, and musicology,…what they consider to be research and scholarly activity is

very different from what I do…I feel like I have good advocates but I still don’t –

I’m never quite sure that they understand what is it that I do.

She further stated that she is not sure how she can be rated on her teaching by administrators who have yet to observe her teaching. Teaching evaluations completed by students are also included in her tenure guidelines. “How can other people who’ve never seen me teach grade my teaching effectiveness?” she pondered. Maura and I have discussed our frustration with teaching evaluations on numerous occasions, as the evidence is stacked against the use of such evaluations. Research (e.g., Addison, Stowell,

& Reab, 2015; Mitchell & Martin, 2018) has indicated them to be sexist, racist, ageist, and biased by years of experience. Wanting to know more about the evaluation tool used by her institution, Maura sought out additional information on the tool:

Our program we use for student evaluations, I was looking at the website for it

‘cause it’s a company, and they actually say that these are not, their assessments

called IDA, are supposed to be used for teachers to help better their teaching.

Like diagnostic more than an evaluation. And so, I am like, “Why are we using

these as evaluation?”

With regard to service, Maura has joined the ranks of the pillars of music therapy to which she aspired, and she clearly still lives by her family’s strong service values.

129 Maura is active nationally and locally with all of the professional organizations for music therapy. She is also active at her institution, again, working to meet the service motto of the institution; however, this dedication to service and contribution wreaks havoc on a junior faculty’s progress.

Maura shared that she struggles with where to spend her time and how to protect her time,

…learning how to protect my time, which I struggle with immensely…Nobody

explained to me, or maybe they did but I didn’t realize how many damn emails

you get in a day and how many times someone knocks on your door and how

many times you’re gonna be asked to do things. And learning how to say yes and

no strategically, but also worrying if you say no, how it’s going to affect how you

are thought of as a colleague…I don’t know how to manage it all. I feel like

everybody has it together by me, which I know logically is not true. Everyone

thinks everyone else has it together, but I really just sometimes wonder, “Am I the

only one struggling to like grade and get sleep?”

She has been thrust into the role of coordinator, while all the while, administration is questioning the need for a music therapy coordinator. Maura stated that although she has received positive feedback on her progress toward tenure, she feels torn by differing priorities.

This university has an identity problem. We are a community university, whose

motto is about service, but at the same time it the publish or perish – they also

want us to be a research 1 institution at the same time…do you want us to be great

130 teachers first or do you want us to do a lot of service? What do you want us to

do? It’s not quite clear.

Additionally, Maura was astounded by a recent proposal in their faculty senate, where the idea of “collegiality” was proposed to be added to the tenure guidelines – with teaching, research, service, and collegiality all counting equally to the tenure process.

Maura’s response was priceless: “You’re telling me I can be pretty average at everything, but if I’m really collegial I can do pretty well in my evaluation with this?!” Her frustration regarding this proposed addition to the tenure guidelines, “...they didn’t ever operationally define collegiality itself!”

She continues to make progress on all fronts, but she does not necessarily feel successful, again pondering if she is the only one who feels overwhelmed. Similar to what Tori [introduced later in chapter] recognizes, Maura is aware that higher education is not her only opportunity – a thought in which she “takes solace.” She maintains her clinical skills at a very high level and has continued clinical work and even explained to her husband, “if you find a tenure track job in jazz, God bless you. I’ll go with you, and

I’ll be a music therapist…, having a 9-to-5 sounds awesome right now.”

Even with Maura’s doubts of her abilities, her colleagues and her institutional administration have not communicated any worry about her success as an academic. She is reviewed annually, where senior faculty vote yes/no/maybe to whether or not she would be retained for tenure. She has received almost all “yes” votes in her years at the institution. The institution also values the program, regardless of their waffling regarding the coordinator position, as they dedicated a new tenure-track line to the program. Maura

131 is ecstatic to welcome a new colleague this coming year. It is clear that Maura is ready to share all that she has learned with incoming music therapy professor.

One aspect of Maura’s interview that kept emerging from her words was how her frustrations and concerns continued to circle back to those original family values of service and caring for others. Maura’s frustrations are resultants of caring about her students and her program and of her desire to meet expectations. Of the MTJF members who I interviewed, Maura was the most candid about being frustrated and about her experiences with colleagues and administrators, but she was also the most genuine in her desire to meet everyone’s expectations. Maura recognized that her efforts to meet all of those expectations and requests for her time might inhibit her success. She stated

“…now is the moment where I’m realizing if I do not say “no,” to people very soon, I’m gonna be in trouble.”

Kris

Kris and I have only recently become friends. We share many common friends and a familial familiarity, and our friendship has developed quickly. I find that our thinking is similar and that we view many situations with the same lens. Our philosophy of music therapy is identical, and Kris’s research is what I consider to be exemplary, which serves her well, as she is employed at an R2 institution.

Our interview takes place midday via FaceTime with her sharing her lunch time with me as she is in her work office, and I am in my home office. The interview opens with us briefly catching up on the semester with each other. Then, I move us into the interview protocol.

132 The journey to the academy for Kris began with a love for music but that she didn’t see herself as a classroom music teacher. She continued:

During a parent/teacher conference, my dad mentioned it to my choir director.

Her mom had just had a stroke and was working with a music therapist and was

able to regain her speech through music therapy using melodic intonation therapy.

She told my dad about it, and I went to the library and I looked up books on it…

Kris joked about how the internet did not even exist and how the library only had three books on music therapy. Of course, she read all three, determined to justify the potential debt of student loans to become a music therapist.

Another family connection put her in contact with a local music therapist. Kris’s interest in the profession only grew as she volunteered with that music therapist at a local hospital for children with disabilities. She did so for her entire senior year. Following graduation, Kris left her hometown to attend a university with a very well-respected music therapy program. “I went into my undergrad wanting to be a hospice music therapist,” Kris recalled. She continued that at that time, there were very few music therapists working in that capacity, which is very different in current practice where hospice music therapy is one of the largest employers of music therapists and also one of the fastest growing areas of employment. Throughout her undergraduate studies, her interests did not waiver. She completed her undergraduate degree and went on to immediately accomplish her goal of working in hospice.

Kris’s professors must have seen the scholar inside of Kris, and they recruited her back for her master’s degree even before she finished undergrad. She agreed to return.

Being a board-certified music therapist, she was able to not only teach in the classroom

133 but also supervise in the field. Kris recalls with whimsy how much she enjoyed watching the student music therapists develop over the course of their clinical experiences. It is important to note that at the completion of her thesis defense, her supervising professor invited her back to earn her PhD. Kris needed and wanted to work first, but her mentor promised to be there when Kris returned for her PhD, which was a promise she kept.

After completing her master’s degree, Kris worked in hospice care. She established a music therapy internship at her site and continued to love watching the students grow into work-ready music therapists.

I loved the population that I was working with. I knew emotionally that couldn’t

stay there the whole time. I also knew that I had started an internship, I had

practicum students, I LOVED that piece of it. I loved the student interaction

piece. I realized I also did miss the classroom itself, not just the clinical

supervision, but the classroom itself.

At her first realization of these feelings, the timing to return to pursue the PhD was not aligning with the needs of her family. However, after eight years of working in hospice and supervising, Kris’s husband encouraged her to return to the classroom. With laughter, she stated, “yeah, we can just blame him.” Returning to her mentors, Kris pursued her PhD. Kris recounted how these professors had been models of many facets of life, but she particularly recalled the following: “…everybody that I studied with had done both academic but had also kept some time that was clinical.” Her affect communicated that these professors were mentors in every fashion and had a profound influence on Kris.

134 Kris’s opportunities in her doctoral program were unlimited. By the time she left the program (between her time as a master’s student and doctoral student), she had taught the entire curriculum, supervised many students at all levels of clinical practice, and conducted research with her professors.

When she completed the doctoral program, she applied to the open music therapy professorships and successfully won a tenure-track position. She entered the academy as an assistant professor, with a senior faculty member at the helm of a well-established, well-respected music therapy program at the institution.

Kris quickly learned that the explanation for the number of courses she would teach was somewhat a jumble, given that music courses at her institution are figured through a conversion table due to their credits being differing amounts over time. Before the start to the fall semester, she realized she would be prepping four courses to open her career as a professor. Kris recalled, “…my first semester I didn’t change anything ‘cause

I didn’t know how the pieces fit together. And I had a fear of changing a crucial piece that was going to lead to something next semester.” After settling in to the position and viewing the future syllabi, Kris felt more confident to begin making changes. Kris told a story about a particular assignment that illustrated her negotiation of roles as a junior faculty member making adjustments to long-standing curricula and courses.

For instance, there was a project in on the of the classes, and the students the first

year I taught were like, “yes this is, we need more information.” So I gave them

more information. The next year when I taught it, I tweaked that information a

little but more to give them more direction. And I had the same teaching assistant

who had done her undergraduate here as well. And we got done with the end of

135 the semester, and I said, “I’m thinking this is improved, but it still doesn’t quite

work.” And she said, “I agree.” And I laid out my plan for the assignment and

she was like, “Yeah, I really like that, and I think that would work.” So, I drafted

it and I took it to my colleague, and the response was, “yeah, this was a piece that

never seemed to fit in this class…it’s been the piece that needed to be fixed.”

And so there was full support to fix it, and enthusiasm, too.

This story is indicative of the support Kris has felt from her colleagues, from the program, to the department, to the institution. In addition to being assigned a mentor outside of her department (to make visiting about department concerns easier) her first year, new faculty members were required to attend every-other-week workshops that provided the new faculty members information about and assistance with many institutional guidelines. These topics included tenure guidelines, internal grant opportunities, and preparing the dossier, among many other topics. Kris enjoyed the support and particularly recalled appreciating the opportunity to get to know other colleagues from across the campus. I asked if she missed the meetings and support when her second year began, and she thoughtfully answered, “I missed some of the social connectedness, but on the other hand, I was starting to have more responsibilities.” Kris then explained how she felt protected from being given too many other tasks at the beginning of her tenure process and how her colleagues were mindful of encouraging her to take on certain roles at certain times to build her dossier. Kris was grateful for that guidance.

Knowing how much Kris loved watching the students develop during her early years of clinical supervision and being an internship director, I was curious if she still

136 found student development as enjoyable. I asked, “What’s your favorite part now?” She responded immediately.

Seeing the students’ growth. Because I have them for so many of their classes.

Seeing them evolve from the first year, two years, needing those black and white

answers, to at the end [thinking], “well, it depends, if they [clients] present this

way, I’m going to do this. If they present that way, then I might try this, or maybe

I need to think of how I’m going to change that in the moment.” So, it is

wonderful to see them start thinking with flexibility instead of just that concrete,

give me the answer and I’ll go do it. They get that they can’t approach it that

way.

Next, we broached the subject of tenure guidelines. Like her peers, Kris stated that she was clear on what the expectations were. “…within the school, one thing I appreciate is that the expectations for tenure are mapped out, so that you know exactly.

This is what I’m doing, it gets qualified as high, mid, or low range.” I found this response very interesting and asked her to further unpack that description, as I wondered if, also like her peers, what seemed to be clear was really ambiguous. Kris went on to describe that presentations at the national level would be high, and of course, peer- reviewed journal publications are considered high. This statement further piqued my curiosity to the clarity of the guidelines. I then inquired how may “high” pieces of scholarship does one need to get tenure. Kris responded, “That’s not really specified.”

Then she continued, “…what I have informally been told is you need to have one publication completed for each of the years before you go up for your sixth year.

137 Additionally, she stated that the presentations “count” but that the institution really wants publications.

When I asked Kris about the types of struggles or persistent challenges she faced early in her professorship, she (like most of the interviewees) mentioned calendar and time management.

I think one of the biggest struggles has been just prepping classes and grading and

keeping up with that cycle and doing that while maintaining time for research…I

find that if I set my schedule then I have a very clear indication of what days and

hours are going to be research and keeping that. Now, there’s times that that

doesn’t work and I have to just…Give it up and know that that’s going to

happen…that has helped me be able to be productive on both fronts…I’m also

one who plans ahead so that when I have a time to work, I know exactly what I’m

going to be working on, and I, yeah, I triage my list and when I come in on

Monday, I rewrite the list so that I can triage the pieces that need to happen more

quickly than some of the others. So that I’m hopefully staying ahead, and

definitely making deadlines.

With Kris’s planning time for research, it demonstrates her seriousness for meeting the scholarship expectations of her institution. She conveyed her gratefulness to having had research and scholarship in the pipeline from her doctoral work that has fed her initial publications.

…the PhD program that I came out of left me with three publishable pieces plus

the dissertation. Plus, I had done a research study with faculty members outside

138 of my PhD studies. And so, what I’ve been working on these first couple of years

is publishing those, so they don’t just sit in the drawer.

Kris was specific in stating that there is no way that she would have been able to establish new lines of research and still accomplish what she needed to on campus and still meet the tenure requirements. She is, however, eager to begin on a couple of her many ideas for new scholarship as her journey to tenure is on the countdown. As the countdown to tenure winds down for Kris, she is confident in her future success.

Tori

Tori and I have not had the pleasure of a one-on-one conversation prior to our visit. Having studied music therapy faculty and interacting at conferences, I knew of

Tori, her research interests, and her educational lineage. I was excited to have a chance to get to know her better and to visit about music therapy. One story I was particularly interested in hearing from her was about her transition from one tenure-track position to another. In the small community of music therapy faculty, it was common knowledge that the move had taken place. I was curious about the reasoning for it, as leaving a tenure-track position seems unbelievable to those who have long-sought such a position.

Tori is now situated at an R2 institution at a very well established and respected music therapy program. Our visit was scheduled via FaceTime for a lunch hour where Tori was in her office eating her lunch, and I had hurried home to have the privacy to visit while in my home office.

Tori’s story is similar to Lynn’s at the beginning. Tori is from a line of educators, who highly encouraged her to join their ranks. From the start, Tori fought family history and declared she would never be an educator, she laughs as she says, “I swear I wasn’t

139 gonna be a teacher.” It is notable that Tori’s mom was both a music teacher and a special education teacher. Tori affectionately recalled, “I grew up around kids with disabilities and I knew that was my thing.” She realized at a young age that her future was working with children with disabilities. It seems natural that Tori was laser focused on her goals, given her early interests and upbringing. “I came in day one to music therapy, ‘I wanna work with kids in the schools,’ and people would usually come in and say that and then change, at least in my experiences. But I never changed.”

Tori is a rare case in music therapy, because she knew she wanted to pursue music therapy as a degree from the beginning. Tori went and conquered her undergraduate music therapy degree. Her professor seemed to “just know” Tori and knew how to guide

Tori with “just the right amount of push,” while remaining supportive.

…and I was applying for internship, at children’s hospitals, and [she] asked me,

‘Why? What are you doing?’ I responded that it had to be hospitals because those

are the hardest, and I need to do the hardest. She told me, “No, for others, what

you do is hardest. [Schools] aren’t hard for you, Tori, ‘cause it’s what you love.”

That’s good advice I thought, [and now] the advice I give to my students every

year.

Tori acquiesced and went on to intern at one of the most highly regarded school internships in the country. After interning, Tori followed her husband to the city of his band director job, and she began working in the schools covering a maternity leave as a chorus conductor. During her planning session, she would pull students would she believed would benefit from music therapy services into the music room for free music therapy intervention. Tori invited anyone and everyone to come and observe these

140 sessions. The next year, the school had hired her as music therapist to work with their students.

As her husband’s 4-year contract was ending, Tori mentioned to her undergraduate mentor that she was considering a master’s degree. It did not take much convincing from her professor to have Tori back in the classroom to earn her master’s degree. Her husband followed her this time, working as an adjunct at the institution. She fondly recalled, “…so we had a pretty sweet deal.” During this academic venture, Tori enjoyed teaching and supervising students. She quickly realized that the teaching blood in her veins ran true to her family history: Tori was meant to be an educator.

Tori and her husband were clear from the beginning that they “were in it for the long haul” regarding education. They planned on earning doctorate degrees and being professors, which had them very aware of what the path to academia looks like. They were prepared for multiple moves and were ready for the complex situation that would likely exist once they were both finished and searching for positions. After Tori’s finished her master’s degree, she again followed her husband who was granted the opportunity to fulfill his dream of attending school at a world-renowned program on his primary instrument. Off they went to interview. As he was interviewing for his doctoral position, Tori was wandering the hallways, thinking that the description of another one of the doctoral programs sounded like it might fit her interests. She laughed as she recalled her fist interaction with one of the professors:

I knocked on his door, and he happened to be there, which is hilarious ‘cause he

travels all the time. And he was like, “Yeah, come in.” you know, and I’m like,

“Oh, hi. My name is Tori. My husband’s interested in coming here. I’m a music

141 therapist and I think this might be a good fit for me. Do you think I should come

to school here?” And he responded, “Sure!”

Tori identified this moment as a “critical decision” for her life. The interview and her chances she considered “a wing and a prayer.” She stated that in the moments she felt that she “had a nothing to lose attitude,” that she attributes to always helping her.

Looking back now on how both she and her husband were accepted and won assistantships, Tori said, “That was a damn miracle!”

Like her professor from her undergraduate and master’s program, Tori’s primary doctoral professor became her next academic mentor. She stated, “That’s been a huge part of my success and productivity,” referring to her relationships with her two mentors.

During her doctoral studies, Tori enjoyed a great deal of feedback, largely on her teaching, as that was the focus of her program. She recalled how all of her teaching was videoed, and then in a seminar class, they students watched videos and critiqued each other on their teaching. It was a humbling experience, yet extremely beneficial. To this day, Tori states that teaching is the easy part of her job, as she had so much practice and so much guidance on those skills. It was in a similar course, a journal club, that one particular incident took place that Tori now identifies as a pivotal moment in her doctoral education. She stated that she has never forgotten it, and in every job interview she has had, she has thought of it.

We had a journal club…we met and discussed research on a weekly basis and you

were expected to come prepared with an article that you had to explain to your

faculty. And they critiqued you, and it was like the scariest week of your life…so

we practiced interactions and that kind of thing, and I remember getting feedback

142 about my social behavior. Little things like, “Tori, wait three seconds before you

comment on someone’s comment. Listen to what they’re saying because you’re

coming across as aggressive and argumentative and you don’t mean to” and I’m

like, “Oh my God, I don’t, I absolutely don’t!”

Further reflecting on that experience, Tori continued

…I’m a strong person, and I’m not apologizing for that, but you can tweak things

a little bit to be a little more appealing and collegial, you know. But the fact that I

got feedback on that, you know was really meaningful to me, and I give it to my

students, you know. I say, “This is how you’re coming across, and I know it’s

hurting your feeling right now, and I’m sorry about that, but one day, you’re

gonna be like, ‘look at that, my professor told me this.’”

In addition to receiving opportunities for feedback on teaching and on socialization, Tori also benefitted from her academic mentor in scholarship. During her doctoral studies, she began a project with her mentor, which conveniently was published during her first year of employment. Tori enjoys a continued research relationship with this mentor and several of her doctoral colleagues. This small community meets through video chats and aims to have a project always in progress. Tori thinks that it is one way her mentor feels that she can continue to support her students as they work to earn tenure.

Tori attributes her successes to these professors. In fact, Tori stated that she rarely makes a big life decision without consulting with her mentors. These relationships have truly contributed to Tori’s development as a professional and as a person. Furthermore, her admiration of these women is apparent when she stated, “…all of my teachers have

143 given me so much amazing attention that my standard for what I need to do for my students is through the roof high…because that is how I was taught.”

After completing her doctoral degree, the complex situation that Tori and her husband anticipated came to fruition. They made the agreement that whoever had an offer with the ink dried first was the position they would take and where they would move. Tori won, and there were several opportunities available to her. She made light of the situation regarding the number of music therapy positions available at that time, “If you could breathe and had coherent sense, congratulations, you had a job.” They moved, and Tori set out on her way to a tenure-track position. Her first position was extremely workload heavy, with her supervising 11 practicum sites and teaching a great deal. This schedule left her little time for her research pursuits or interests. Additionally, the institution was a very long distance from family. They longed to be closer to their familial support systems, especially after welcoming their first child to their family. This information quenched my curiosity as to why one leaves a tenure-track position.

The need to be closer to home prompted her search for a different position that worked better geographically. Again, Tori had several options, and she was thrilled to have a choice between two institutions. Tori chose the well-established program, where she would work with a seasoned senior faculty in a school of music that boasted an excellent music therapy program. Tori was especially excited about the prospect of working with graduate students and to have the increased opportunity to do her research.

It is of note that Tori traded copious amounts of teaching, where she feels most comfortable, for a research-focused institution with additional requirements and

144 standards. Tori was not concerned about those differences and was ecstatic to be closer to family.

Tori continues to work her way to tenure in this position. She stated that she has thoroughly enjoyed administrative supports such as internal funding opportunities and opportunities for skill development. She has taken advantage of the internal funding opportunities, gaining collaborative colleagues from across campus, but especially from

Speech Language Pathology. During her first year, the university offered a teaching academy for new faculty members, in which she enjoyed both the material and, maybe even more so, the opportunity to meet colleagues across campus. Tori was also assigned a mentor her first year. She further stated that it is always interesting to learn more about how “things” work differently in different areas of campus. Tori further noted that the tenure guidelines for music therapy were more lenient than in other areas across campus.

Regarding tenure guidelines, Tori noted that her institution requires the traditional successes in research, teaching, and service. She mentioned “I can’t be at a place where they don’t care about teaching, so this is a pretty good fit for me in terms of balance, research and teaching emphasis.” Tori mentioned that the institution takes the student course evaluations very seriously. Regarding scholarship and publishing, she just stated that it is expected. She continues to enjoy scholarly productivity with her mentors and other doctoral colleagues. Tori mentions that they continuously have work in the pipeline as other work is being reviewed. She did specify, though, at her institution, “there is not a number here. It’s not like you have to publish this many articles.” However, she was quick to add that “I’m protective of my time I give to service, ‘cause I know it’s a time hole, time suck.” She stated that she got on the committees at the times she was told she

145 needed to, and then declined to serve in other places. She continued, “You can say no.

You really can.” Tori laughed at my response to that statement, which consisted of raised eyebrows and rounded eyes.

My admiration for Tori blossomed as she stated that she has no intention of changing her pace for scholarship or her dedication to students and teaching as she progresses professionally. She stated that she is happy with who she is, where she is, and what she is doing. Regardless of Tori’s initial refusal to become an educator, she has developed into a phenomenal educator and strong researcher. I think her students recognize her as a true academic mentor, and I further believe Tori’s mentors could not be prouder of the professor she has become. Through the treacherous terrain of the tenure process, Tori remains true to herself and to her roots, maintaining work and research with children with disabilities, while attending to her family as a priority.

Summary

These retold narratives are collections of the participants’ stories, providing direct quotations from the Set One interviews. Each narrative opened with some background on my relationship with the participant, which provides context for the “midst” into which we entered together. The type of institution and some background regarding their respective programs was included. These brief sections of the interviews aimed to paint some of the midst of each participant’s life, including professional, personal, cultural, social, political, familial, and linguistic narratives.

These contextual narrative portraits illustrated specific experiences followed by additional story or narrative that revealed how that experience affected a decision or learning outcome of the participant. These selections were intentionally included to

146 provide the reader rich, descriptive evidence for how the resulting themes were drawn from the narrative data. Through direct use of the participants’ words, the trustworthiness of the interpretation is increased.

147

CHAPTER V

FINDINGS

The purpose of this narrative inquiry was to explore the lived experiences of MTJF members as they sought to become successful academicians. Seven MTJF members participated in the Set One interviews and two MTJF participated in the Set Two interviews, resulting in over 550 minutes of discussion and over 350 pages of transcription. The collected narrative transcriptions were then analyzed utilizing

Saldaña’s codes-to-theory model. Initial coding utilized Emotional Coding, and second level coding used Theoretical Coding. This study sought to weave the resulting categories and themes into data that could validate these findings. Additionally, the analysis informs recommendations provided in Chapter Six for changes to music therapy graduate curriculum in order to better prepare music therapists to become members of the academy.

The following research questions guided the collection of these narratives:

• What are the lived experiences of MTJF members during their first five years in

the academy?

• How do MTJF members gain institutional knowledge and experience faculty

socialization as members of the academy?

148 • How do MTJF members view their professional identity development over time?

Responses to Questions

This chapter presents the themes that emerged from the interview data and will explain each theme’s relationship to the interviewees’ narrative experiences. Themes are illustrated by several exemplars and connections are drawn among the participants.

Chronological interconnections of the themes will be discussed in chapter six.

In the semi-structured interviews, participants responded to the same questions, taking their own direction with their answers. Figure 1 (refer to page 86) illustrates the structure of the interviews and the specific prompt questions that were asked to each participant. I then asked unique follow-up questions seeking to further unpack their response, to gain additional details, or to seek clarification about their initial responses.

In some instances, the interviewees would answer multiple questions by providing a thorough answer to a single prompt question. For example, when I asked about how one came to the profession of music therapy, several participants initiated a detailed narrative of not only how they learned about music therapy as a profession but also furthered the story to include their educational experiences, which precluded me from needing to ask the question about educational experiences.

Because the participants are from such a small population and because there are specific requirements for becoming a music therapist, it is no surprise that many responses were similar in nature. Additionally, research indicates that certain personality types are drawn to certain careers, which may also suggest the participants are likely similar in personality (Osipow, 1968), and similarities in training and personality may indicate similar reasoning and responses to experiences.

149 Furthermore, these participants share other contextual similarities. Clandinin

(2013) would likely agree that these participants share many aspects of “the midst.” As previously stated, these participants are pulled from a small population, all of whom attended college, attended graduate school (most participant’s twice), most of whom came from homes where private music lessons were afforded and where the value for education was realized through the family’s social and economic capital. In other words, these participants were a relatively homogeneous sample who shared social capital garnered from middle class, predominantly white, backgrounds. It should be noted that these data were collected from individuals who come from places of privilege. It is likely that the findings would have greater variety and contrast if persons from unrepresented minority communities had shared their narratives. Several of the participants even noted their places of privilege in the interviews. For example, Ken stated

I think it's fair to kind of position myself in relation to that. I'm married [to] an

incredibly supportive partner. She and I don't have children. Uh, you know, and

that's a whole other dynamic. I, I can only imagine, and ... you know, in terms of

my cultural background I sit in a somewhat privileged position. Some of those

things probably assisted with my ease and comfort with things. But I found

overall to feel very supported…

Social capital will be further discussed in chapter six, as it surfaces across several of the concepts and themes and plays a predominant role in the experiences granted to the participants.

Table 1 provides a quick reference for the participants’ characteristics. The

Institution Type column provides information regarding the Carnegie Classification © of

150 the institution, where R1 and R2 represent institutions with “very high research activity” and “high research activity,” respectively. D/PU represents an institution classified as a

Doctoral/Professional University, and B:DF represents an institution classified as a

Baccalaureate College: Diverse Fields. The third column, Type of Position, conveys information regarding the type of role the participant holds within the program. Four participants were coordinators for the music therapy programs, three of the participants held the next supporting position of authority, suggesting they have a colleague who holds the title of coordinator and may have other part-time or full-time, nontenure track colleagues in their music therapy programs. Those participants labeled as >2 suggest that these individuals work in large music therapy programs with numerous full-time tenure track positions where these participants have several senior music therapy colleagues.

The next column, Earliest MT Degree, describes when in the participant’s educational experience, s/he earned a degree in music therapy. Highest Degree Earned conveys the highest degree earned by each participant. The State of Program column provides information regarding the current status of their music therapy programs. Those programs labeled as “established” represent programs that are under consistent leadership and are well-supported at the institution. Whereas the programs labeled as “transition” represent the following characteristics of programs: reflect recent leadership changes or have leadership changes on the horizon; may or may not have solid institutional support; and are hiring or may be hiring additional positions in the near future. The program labeled as “new” defines a program that was established within the last two years and is growing. The “Degrees Completed at the Same Institution” column reveals whether or not the participant completed multiple degrees at the same institution. The second to last

151 column provides chronological context for where the participant lies in her/his tenure

process as either below, at, or beyond her/his third year. The final column indicates in

terms of the research design, the participants’ participation in either the Set One

interviews (one-on-one interviews conducted using the Interview Protocol presented in

Figure 1, p. 85) or in Set Two interviews, which involved two new participants, using

questions informed by early thematic analysis. Although more specific demographic

information was collected, the anonymity of the participants would be at risk if greater

details were provided.

Table 1: Participant Characteristics

Degrees Earliest Highest Compl. Interview Instit. Type of MT Degree State of at Same Tenure Set Participant Type Position Degree Earned Program Instit. (years) (1 or 2) Allie RI 2nd MA eq PhD established M, PhD > 3 1 Ken RI >2 Bac PhD established M, PhD ≤ 3 1 Lynn RI >2 MA eq PhD established M, PhD > 3 1 Kasey R2 Coordinator MA eq PhD transition M, PhD ≤ 3 1 Bac, M, Kris R2 2nd Bac PhD established PhD > 3 1 Maura D/PU Coordinator Bac PhD transition M, PhD ≤ 3 1 Tori R2 2nd Bac PhD established Bac, M > 3 1 Mary B:DF Coordinator Bac MA new none ≤ 3 2 Jenny R2 Coordinator Bac ABD transition M, PhD ≤ 3 2

The emergent codes that were developed into categories which drawn from the

interview data were easily classified into six themes/concepts: (1) path to music therapy;

(2) preparing for a future in higher education; (3) pivotal relationships; (4) tenure; (5)

struggles; and (6) knowledge of self. Appendix 1 may be referenced as a brief guide and

overview of the findings.

152 Path to Music Therapy

This theme largely emerged from the first section of the interview protocol, when participants were invited to share their experiences about how they came to the field of music therapy. I was delighted at the uniqueness of each story, while enamored by the similarity of the narratives. Two categories shaped this theme: experiences that led to music therapy and connection to disability.

Experiences that led to music therapy. Each participant shared pivotal experiences that set her/him on a path to the field of music therapy. Clearly, the love for music and for people was present in all of the narratives. Kris and I joked about having a box to check during interviews of prospective music therapy majors that would indicate that the prospect stated that “s/he loves music and wants to use music to help people.”

Mary and Jenny also mentioned how this response is the standard expectation for potential in-coming students. When I asked Jenny about admissions for prospective students, before I completed the question, she exclaimed, "I love music and I want to help people!"

The interviews, however, gathered greater detail about how the participants learned about the profession of music therapy and how they envisioned themselves combining their love for music and people into a future and a profession. Four out of the seven participants shared stories about how immediate family members encouraged them to explore the profession. Recall Kris’s narrative about her dad discussing college majors with her high school choir director and Kasey’s mom sharing the “Top 100” jobs list with her. Lynn and Allie relayed stories about their direct observation of how music affected behaviors of students in classroom and group learning settings. Allie described how she

153 taught kids different skills by singing, and she recalled thinking, “… I do like working with these kids, and I do really like music, and I'm now seeing their response to music."

Maura and Ken had more unique stories. Maura was influenced by an excellent website on the profession of music therapy and Ken by a conversation with an acquaintance.

As their studies in music therapy continued, several interviewees shared additional experiences that were meaningful. For example, Ken described how he was elated to be learning about music and rhythm but that he was craving human interaction – music therapy clearly combined those interests. He stated,

I start [music] studies, … and I'm loving it…but I'm not finding the kind of

connection with people that I want…the more I looked at it [a music therapy

program] the more I was like, “Well, of course. This is, this is a bit more up your

alley, what you, what you want to do to connect with people.” And um, so I

enrolled there and just never looked back.

Another example was Kasey’s initial decision to pursue music education and how she found herself writing papers for her music education degree about music therapy and the profession of music therapy’s development undergraduate studies, ultimately returning to graduate school to obtain her master’s equivalency degree in music therapy.

Connection to disability. Several of the interviewees described early life- experiences with individuals with varying abilities that had lasting effects on their career decisions. These early experiences included stories such as Allie’s work in high school teaching children with disabilities and Tori’s story about being raised around children with disabilities through her mom’s work as a special education teacher. Kris described how she volunteered at a local hospital for children with disabilities, and Lynn taught a

154 class period specifically for a self-contained preschool classroom for children with disabilities. These connections to children with disabilities appear to have played a pivotal role in the participants’ decisions leading to their careers as music therapists. Tori elucidated this notion when she stated, “I grew up around kids with disabilities, and I knew that was my thing…I'd rather interact and work with them than anybody else.”

Preparation for Career in Higher Education

Similar to the previous theme, the category Preparation for a Career in Higher

Education also developed from the responses gathered from the first section of the interview protocol. The questions inviting stories about how the participants discovered music therapy and about the nature of their educational experiences elicited information that constructed this theme and that is devised of the two categories. Responses from

Mary and Jenny further validated this theme; however, related data are more evident in the thematic category of Educational Experiences than for Love of Supervision.

Love of supervision. Almost all of the participants mentioned their enjoyment of supervising students, whether it was while in graduate school as a teaching assistant and/or as an internship supervisor. Kris expressed her feelings when she stated, “I also knew that I had started an internship, I had practicum students, I LOVED that piece of it.

I loved the student interaction piece.” And Kasey stated, “I fell in love with supervising interns when I was at the hospital.” Experiences of observing students develop seemed to have motivated most of the interviewees to pursue the opportunity to work more with students. Kasey further stated that she fell in love with the process and watching her students develop their understanding of the field. The selected vocabulary used by the participants with regards to this student interaction was of particular note to me while

155 analyzing this portion of the data. This category is one of the only sections where multiple participants utilized the word “love,” which is why the category utilizes such an emotive word in its name.

Educational experiences. This category is comprised to two subcategories: positive educational experiences and gaps in educational experiences. All of the participants provided vivid descriptions of their educational experiences. It is notable that these experiences were largely positive, as would be expected since this pool of individuals sought educational experience after educational experience after education experience. Almost all of the participants recalled their professors with fondness

(additional description in the Pivotal Relationships category). This specific category is comprised of stories and statements specific to experiences provided to the interviewees during their educational training.

Positive educational experiences. Most of the interviewees recalled experiences with graduate teaching and research assistantships positively. This positivity largely reflected their interests in developing their skills in teaching and/or in researching.

Furthermore, the participants made connections as to how these experiences and the resulting skills improvement benefitted them as they entered the academy. Kris mentioned that between her two graduate degrees, she had taught the entire music therapy curriculum and that she felt prepared to teach whatever courses were assigned to her, which served her very well considering her first-year teaching load. Since her first year in her tenure-track position, Kris has been responsible for teaching a 4/4 load, which means that she teaches four classes in the fall semester and four classes in the spring semester. Kris specified, “And they have a conversion factor, so there's a school of

156 music credit that they enroll for, and then there's a conversion for load.” This conversion factor prevents Kris’s workload from appearing that she teaches 12 hours of coursework each semester; however, she further stated that prepping a course is prepping a course, regardless of the number of hours assigned to it.

Allie shared a great deal about how much she taught, particularly courses for those students who may not have been music majors. One particular story she shared was about her group piano class for non-music majors and about how much she enjoyed teaching those students, mostly athletes, and seeing them develop their piano skills. She said, “I will tell you that watching college football, having known the brains underneath those helmets is a totally different experience than watching college football without knowing those kids.” To Allie, those teaching experiences seemed to impress upon her the importance of understanding and getting to know her students for more than just what their major may have been or for more than the activities in which they participated. Tori stated that both of her graduate programs were heavily focused on teaching. Like Allie, she is grateful to have had those teaching experiences, as she recognizes that those experiences have led to her feeling like teaching is the easy part of her job. She recalled,

So my, one of my very first classes with [professor mentor], you literally,

whatever teaching situation you're in, you video everything…Any class, everyday

just throwing videos up on the screen and critiquing and talking in front of a

class…that's a unique thing I got at [my program] that most people don't

get…This real intense focus on my teaching, and I, I feel like that's the easiest

part of the job for me.

157 Maura made a similar statement about the experiences provided to her during graduate school and how those experiences prepared her for her journey in the academy:

[I took a] music therapy seminar that was all about higher education. Including

but not limited to how to get a job, um, what the tenure process is like. Also

creating rubrics and assessments. Um, we learned about college student

development and mapping things we might see in certain classes, in certain

feedback from students to those developments and learning how to help push

them to the next level. And I would say we were very well supported.

Gaps in educational experiences. This subcategory was devised in response to stories told by the participants that revealed small gaps in their educational instruction or inexperience in areas they would now find helpful. Kasey mentioned that she would have really benefitted from having some instruction on how to develop a curriculum:

…because you know in your PhD, they do a really good job of, you know, you

get to teach, and you're doing your research, and you have college teaching

classes. But no one really talks about, "Hey, if one day you have to create a whole

new curriculum."

Allie mentioned that she would have really benefitted from having experience developing syllabi for specific music therapy courses. After Maura described the seminar course

(quoted in previous subtheme), she followed that memory by saying, “…everything they told me and taught me definitely happened. But, also, it's kind of like nothing can actually prepare you for the real thing.” She finished that story by saying that one can never truly be prepared for every situation and issue that arises as one begins the journey in the academy.

158 These narratives were corroborated by the Set Two interviewees. As Mary has shopped for PhD programs, she mentioned noticing how some of the skill areas she wants from her program will not necessarily be easy to find. When discussing the option of pursing a PhD in music education with emphasis in music therapy, she stated that she was concerned that “…you're not getting supervision as a teacher. You're getting their supervision on whatever your topic is in your PhD.” Jenny mentioned that a great deal of more classroom teaching time would have benefitted her. She stated, “our teaching load is dramatically different…we supervise. That's primarily all of our college teaching, with a few guest lectures here and there. So that part's challenging.”

Jenny, however, provided a counter-narrative to this category. When I invited her to identify experiences different from the exemplars, she quickly stated the following.

My primary reason for PhD was I wanted to be my own PI (primary investigator –

the person in charge of a research study, who is in charge of the research

assistants). I didn't want to have to rely on anybody else, 'cause I've gotten

screwed by others. Um, and then the, the fact that I do enjoy teaching people how

to do things and being able to kind of shape that.

Pivotal Relationships

This theme is the most complex theme, comprised of the most categories, totaling four. These categories include the following: influential persons leading to music therapy, mentor professors, PhD feeds future, and trusted allies. Explanation for this theme will be further developed in Chapter Six; however, a brief explanation for the number of categories that emerged will be made here. These categories follow the chronology of the participants’ experiences on their journeys to the academy and during

159 their first years in the academy. Certain relationships proved important to their development, to their knowledge, to the experiences they had, to their confidence, and/or to their thoughts and reflections. The categories regarding these relationships encompass many interactions and experiences provided to the participants by pivotal individuals at pivotal moments in their journey.

Influential persons leading to music therapy. Pivotal relationships that were classified in this category included those individuals who were influential in guiding the participants to the field of music therapy. For many of the participants, these people included their parents. For Allie and Tori, their mothers were very involved in working with children with disabilities and encouraged their daughters to pursue music and careers in education. Lynn’s father had continually handed her brochures on music therapy, thinking she should explore the option; however, Lynn credited an instructor of a summer continuing education course as a pivotal relationship that led her straight to graduate coursework to become a music therapist.

The course was taught by [future mentor professor], on using music in special

education. And it just really fascinated me, how, you know, you could use music

to help people in a different way than I had previously thought. So, I taught

another year, and during that year I was really in the back of my mind, and I

called her up, not really realizing that she was like, [position], and you know this

big ranking person. (Laughing). And so I just called her up and said, "Hey, tell

me about music therapy." And now looking back I'm a little mortified, but she

was very, very patient and gracious. And she told me about it, and I became

really interested, and I applied, talked with [another future mentor professor]

160 about GTA's [graduate teaching assistantships], and opportunities there, and said,

"Okay, I think I'm gonna do this." So, then I went back to school for my graduate

equivalency degree in [year].

Maura credited her family, their dedication to being helpers, and their careers in the helping professions as influential in her decisions regarding becoming a music therapist and even how much she dedicates to her role as professor.

Mentor professors. This category encompasses those relationships with professors, ranging from undergraduate through doctoral studies. Many of the participants conveyed specific conversations with these individuals that changed the trajectory of their careers. For example, Allie described one exchange with one of her professor mentors that changed her career trajectory.

I ended up taking additional summer classes, one of which was College Teaching

with [instructor name]. In that class, I started to, well there had been this idea of

going into higher ed in the back of my head, but that class started to launch me.

And I ended up in [mentor professor]'s office one day. I had had some really

horrific job interviews, and she asked what I was doing this summer and I said,

"Well, I'm in college teaching. Like, this is what I've applied for, this is when my

thesis will be done." She responded, "Wait, back up, you're in college teaching?

Do you like it?" And I said, "Yeah, I really love it more than I thought." Then she

said, "I have a job for you. Send me your resumé by the end of the day." And

within, I kid you not, 10 days, I had an offer from [institution] to be a visiting

professor starting that fall.

161 Most of the participants earned two of their college degrees from the same institution. Only Mary from the Set Two interviews did not have a program from which she earned two degrees. There was a relatively equal distribution among the participants as to whether those two degrees included undergraduate and master’s or master’s and doctorate. In many of their cases, the professors singled these individuals out to return to school – be it for master’s or for doctorate.

This category is particularly strong, as it consumed many codes, each having emerged from experiences conveyed by the participants. Most importantly, the participants identified these individuals of significance as the most influential on their careers and almost all of the participants maintain a strong relationship with these professor mentors and plan to continue those strong relationships. Some the participants described continued scholarly work with their mentor professors and others cited more personal interactions, seeking guidance for big decisions. Tori went so far as to say, “I rarely make a big life decision without consulting my professor mentors! I talk with them weekly.” These experiences led to the two subcategories: recruited by mentor professors and coached by mentor professors.

Recruited by mentor professors. This subcategory developed as the participants shared stories about how they determined when and where to return to university for additional schooling. Kris shared that her professor mentor recruited her back for a master’s degree prior to her completion of her undergraduate degree, and then the professor mentor promised to stay at the program to see Kris back for her doctorate degree. Tori’s mentor professor expressed to Tori that a spot existed in the program for the following fall and that the spot was Tori’s for the taking after Tori mentioned going

162 back to school during one of their passing conversations. Ken was recruited for his doctoral program not only by a friend but also by a mentor professor, who held a spot for him until he was able to navigate the complexities of relocating and being financially stable to pursue his doctorate degree.

Coached by mentor professors. This subcategory is so encompassing that it could be divided into many more parts; however, the purpose of the analysis was to seek the most efficient classification of the data. Additionally, for the purposes of this study, the analysis will not reach the sublevel of classifications possible in this thematic category.

For the participants, coaching by mentors was not limited to coaching or support with professional or academic issues. The participants recognized these individuals as coaching them in life decisions and modeling best practices as teacher/researcher/service professors. In some cases, the coaching provided by mentor professors has inspired the teaching methods of these MTJF members, and in other cases, the coaching has resulted in expectations of self from the MTJF members, as they wish to hold themselves to the mentoring standards set forth by those professors who have been so influential to their professional and personal successes.

Tori stated that that she now realizes that the high expectations she has for herself regarding the level of dedication she gives to her students is a direct result of the modeling her mentor professors provided her, which she attributes to her professional successes. Allie mentioned how she visits regularly with her mentor professor. She continues a working relationship with her mentor professor and continues to publish with that mentor professor and other trusted colleagues from her doctoral program.

Additionally, Allie told a story about how she was able to obtain a visiting professorship

163 because one of her mentor professors highly encouraged her to apply and even assisted in obtaining the waivers that she needed to apply for the position. Lynn had a similar employment experience where the encouragement of her mentor professors resulted in her accepting a position that was not even advertised as open. Lynn further described how she grew under two different mentor professors, and how each of them contributed to different areas of her development. In similar fashion, Ken shared about how pertinent a mentor became in his development of thought and philosophy by providing statements of encouragement regarding the originality of Ken’s thinking. These brief narratives illustrate the intensity of influence and career coaching of the participants’ mentor professors.

After being invited to review the themes, categories, and subcategories, Mary

(first participant of the Set Two interviews) stated that she did not share this experience of being asked to return to study more at a particular program (Recruited by Mentor

Professors); however, like her MTJF colleagues, she could easily identify professor mentors who influenced her decisions and who have acted as coaches to her. She affirmed,

I contacted [mentor professor] and [second mentor professor]. I actually

contacted him (second professor mentor) multiple times with questions…I didn't

get to know my professors from graduate school as well because I was actually

only there for a year. My second year was kind of out doing the research

part….so definitely I've gone back to [mentor professor] and [second mentor

professor].

164 Mary further stated that relying on her relationship with her undergraduate professors has served her well, since she continues to work to adjust her teaching to meet the needs of first-year students, rather than seasoned graduate students.

Jenny attributed many of her ideas as a new professor to the experiences provided to her by her mentor professors. She also shared that as she embarked on contract negotiations, one of her mentor professors told her, "Well so, if you're going to be the director of the program, that's your service. You don't need anything else." She's like,

"Maybe a regional committee, but that's about all you need right now." Jenny really appreciated that clarity of statement, as she admitted that she tends to over-volunteer.

Additionally, her professor mentor advised Jenny to “…be careful who you complain to.”

Trusted allies. This category may contradict what one might expect in a competitive profession, such as the professoriate (Cohen & Kisker, 2010). As was made clear in previous chapters, the explosive growth of music therapy programs has led to many open positions in higher education, where those positions may remain open or result in failed searches due to the lack of qualified applicants. It is feasible that the open availability of positions has made instructors of music therapy less competitive and more willing to assist newcomers, and/or it is reasonable to consider the core of the individuals being similar in values such as altruism, kindness, and being helpful to others.

Data from this current study indicate that even qualified applicants who win positions may become overwhelmed or experience feelings of inadequacy, but the findings also suggest that these professors are self-aware of their feelings and will seek help. Provided the previous themes and categories, it is clear that these individuals seek mentorship from their previous professors. However, these participants also shared

165 stories about relying on the advice and wisdom of other individuals, mostly colleagues.

These colleagues may be in the field of music therapy at other institutions, peers from their schooling, or colleagues from other areas at the participants’ institutions. Other trusted allies may be community members or emeritus faculty. This category “Trusted

Allies” is indicative of the participants’ search for help or assistance from these peers and colleagues. Trusted allies who are colleagues may hold an equal position of power, one of less power, or even one of more power. For those colleagues in positions of greater power, such as senior music therapy faculty members or administrators, some may consider those relationships as forms for mentorship. Pursuant to the review of literature regarding mentorship, these trusted allies may indeed offer mentorship through advice and guidance. The term “mentor” is avoided only to prevent confusion with the previous theme of Mentor Professors.

Kasey mentioned that when she needed help to understand how top-performing music therapy programs structure their curriculum, she got in touch with a music therapy alumna from her doctorate program who had experienced a similar situation. This trusted ally shared how she built an updated curriculum at another long-standing program. Allie and Tori both described the opportunity to work with their previous doctoral peers on projects or to have those individuals review their scholarship. Lynn was ecstatic to learn which colleague was assigned to help her navigate her new institution. Lynn declared,

And it was one of those, “whatever [trusted ally] says, I will do,” because she is

very wise, and knowledgeable, and pragmatic. And she will tell you like it is in

the nicest, kindest way possible. Um, but ... I knew just from my brief interactions

166 with her that she was somebody that I - that I could trust. And that's not always

the case in higher ed.

Another one of the most common statements regarding the support from colleagues who were considered trusted allies was about the protection and advice they gave the junior faculty members. One example of this protection was provided by a story from Kris, where she detailed how she was protected from being placed on university committees (performing service) her first year and then how she was slowing incorporated on to department and university-level committees as her time in the position progressed. Tori conveyed a similar story; however, she went so far as to describe how she was coached to not accept positions of service if such a position was not specified in her letters of review, meaning that Tori needed to serve in such a capacity in order to meet the expectations of the review committee to earn tenure. Similar to their peers, Ken and Lynn both described how their senior colleagues and their direct administrators protected junior faculty members from being assigned too many projects too early in their appointments. Ken stated that requirements were coming from the dean of the school of music, and so whenever “anything else was going on” the dean generally responded with,

"Hey…we'll take care of that.” Ken continued, “So there was a level of support that went along with that.” Maura stated how she has benefited from the institutional knowledge and power of her Dean, who has been able to direct her when she is not sure where to begin in addressing policy issues such as how to sign off on a course or how to substitute a course.

Jenny provided depth for this category and triangulated the other narratives.

Jenny stated she has “located several cheerleaders” and has colleagues who “remember

167 me [her] fondly” from when she had previously attended their courses during her graduate coursework. She was confident in their support for her and in their interests in her future successes as an academic.

Tenure

This theme developed from probing questions that sought to specify the amount of institutional knowledge that the participants had gleaned from their early years in the academy as it relates to tenure. During the interviews, it became apparent that most the interviewees were savvy to the tenure process; however, several of the participants commented that it was a steep learning curve. Others discussed their experiences where they had gained knowledge specific to their current institution regarding the tenure guidelines.

Clarity and ambiguity. This category was present in all interviews, both Set

One and Set Two. Each interview presented the same evidence: the tenure guidelines were clear, and the interviewee comprehended exactly what was required and then later in the interview, the participant stated that there was still some level of ambiguity regarding some aspect of the expectations. The full interview exchange shared between

Kris and me fully illustrates this theme. Kris delighted in how clearly the tenets of tenure were outlined, stating, “… within the school, one thing I appreciate is that the expectations for tenure are mapped out, so that you know exactly. This is what I'm doing, it gets qualified as high, mid, or low range.” I responded, “Well, that's interesting with the low, medium, high also. Just for my information, what would you call your conference presentations? Where do they fall? Do they count as scholarship at all?” Kris had an excellent response, full of clarity. She stated, “Yes. So, they would fall on

168 national/international as the top tier. And then regional is mid-tier.” I further probed for details by asking, “So how many ‘high’ do you need, then?” Kris’s eyebrows dipped as she responded, “That's not really specified.” Then I said, “Okay. But that national presentation would count?” Kris continued to present a confounded affect as she replied,

Really they, yeah, what I have informally been told is you need to have one

publication completed for each of the years before you go up for your sixth year.

Well it, it counts. But they want publications. They want, they want both.

Because they want you to be writing, but they also want you to be visibly present,

too.

Lynn also stated that she was clear on the contractual requirements for her to earn tenure at her institution, but then later in her interview, she stated that there was flexibility in the requirements for which items and what number of items were required to be peer-reviewed. Allie made an almost identical statement to Lynn’s. Tori outright stated that was not a set number of publications required for her to successfully become tenured, but that she was still expected to publish. She was comfortable in the ambiguity set forth by her department and college.

While working to triangulate this category in the Set Two interviews, Jenny and

Mary both stated they were thrilled to read they were not the only professors “confused as hell” over the tenure guidelines, corroborating the ambiguity of the tenure process.

Regarding the theme Clarity and Ambiguity, Jenny exclaimed, “I love the clarity and ambiguity, but I'm so used to living on ambiguity, it's not even funny.” Jenny stated she was grateful to read the exemplars in this area, as she now has a set of questions to ask

169 for her administrators next time she meets with them in order to be better informed regarding her tenure process.

Generous feedback. Interestingly, all of the participants then revealed that they relied on trusted allies to make clarifications to the guidelines. In addition to trusted allies providing the junior faculty members with institutional knowledge regarding “how things are done around here” with respect to tenure, the institutions themselves have systems in places to keep junior faculty members apprised of their progress toward tenure. All of the participants described their understanding of their institution’s tenure and promotion system. Some of the participants reported that they would be reviewed in years 2, 4, and 6, and others stated that they would be reviewed in years 3, 5, and 6. And yet others described additional opportunities for review from their departmental peer review committee or from an additional administrator or a different timeline for review altogether. For example, Kris had a departmental review the first year, aimed to set junior faculty members up for future success. Allie shared that she had a review that took place every year at the departmental level and then in year four, the provost reviewed it.

With the interviewees at differing points in their tenure process, several had the experience of one, two, or three pre-tenure reviews, and others had not yet experienced a review. All of the participants, however, did recognize that they were (or would be) provided letters of feedback from their department chair, from at least one peer review committee (some participants had both department and college-level review committees and others only had college-level or only department-level committees), and from their

Provost. According to the participants’ understanding, the letter from the provost most frequently only came at the last review.

170 Participants recognized the advantages of having trusted allies during the review process. For example, Allie described the benefit of those letters when she described the importance of having trusted allies who helped her read and interpret those letters. Allie made a point that those letters provide the reviewee with directions on what to do in order to maintain or increase your chances of being granted tenure and that one will benefit from having a trusted ally with more experience to assist in decoding the instructions for improvement from the letter. As another example, Lynn was grateful for the direct, verbal, off-the-books feedback from colleagues who reviewed her dossier. One senior faculty member verbally informed her she did not have enough publications at the time of review and that he was concerned that if she did not pick up her pace in submitting scholarship for publication that she would not be granted tenure.

Tori’s institution manages the tenure process somewhat differently than the other institutions. Her institution has annual reviews, and Tori reported that basically if she has positive letters from the review committees for each of the five years, then she is clear that she will be granted tenure.

While Ken, Tori, and Allie all mentioned receiving peer teaching reviews and student teaching surveys that were considered in the tenure process, Maura had more opinions to share than her MTJF colleagues did. Maura questioned how someone who had never observed her teach could make judgments about her teaching. Furthermore, she expressed concern for her reviewers’ utter lack of understanding about what constitutes scholarship for Maura or for the other music therapy faculty member joining her program. She clarified that her concern centered around the notion what she does is different than what conductors or performers do.

171 Struggles

All seven of the Set One participants shared aspects of their job or of their development where they struggled. Both Set Two participants further contributed to this theme with additional stories about where they experienced struggles and how they overcame many of them. This theme was somewhat demarcated by which participants were newer to the academy and which participants were nearing the tenure decision.

Participants newer to the academy were more focused on working issues and establishing research lines. Kasey’s work on a new curriculum and on redeveloping the graduate program at her university is an example for a new faculty member having to focus on programmatic issues. Kris is an example of working to publish her existing work instead of beginning new projects, stating, “But right now, I don't have that level of time to be able to initiate that level of project and still be able to make tenure.”

Establishing academic autonomy. Several of the participants relayed narratives about their experiences navigating how to establish themselves as members of the academy. In some cases, this establishment may have been at the program level. Allie described her apprehension and caution as she reworked syllabi, readings, and assignments that had been present in the courses for some time that were developed by more experienced colleagues. She recalled thinking,

I don't wanna be the person who wrecks [very well-respected, retired music

therapy professor]’s syllabus. I mean, she's been teaching for 30 years! Why

would I take this beautiful thing that she's crafted over time and just be like, "Pish,

nah, I'm not gonna listen to [her].”?

172 Allie was concerned about disrespecting the historically traditional aspect of the program while working to update and modernize the material and assignments. Kris also mentioned how she was worried to make any changes in her courses until she understood exactly how all the curricular parts fit together. She shared,

So, my first semester I didn't change anything, ‘cause I didn't know how the

pieces fit together. And I had a fear of changing a crucial piece that was going to

lead to something the next semester. By the time I had looked at the syllabi and

really planned the spring classes, then I could see where the pieces were falling.

And so, I made a change in one of my spring classes. But then, you know, some

of the others, until you get in there and you see the students respond to the

content, you don't have an idea of how to change it.

Kris’s exemplar was the first theme Mary chose to point out when our interview started.

Mary stated that these narratives resonated with her because she, too, hesitated to make changes to the curriculum. Mary’s case was unique in that her curriculum was new and designed by a consultant, which meant that Mary did not have to negotiate the complexities of a senior faculty member at her program, a previous professor’s course design, or programmatic history like Allie and Kris did. Yet, she still loathed to make changes. Jenny also mentioned her desire to make sweeping changes to her curriculum, but how previous decisions from past instructors have prohibited changes within her first year. She shared her thoughts,

This first year, I’m treading water, regardless. I fully expected that, especially

given that the books had already been ordered…and one of the books, she said,

173 “oh, we’re using this.” I was like, “That’s from like, 1989! Are you kidding me

right now?”

The Establishing Academic Autonomy category also emerged from college- and institutional-level experiences. Kris was complimentary of her institution stating that, in general, her university-wide colleagues understand what music therapy is and that she does not spend a great deal of time having to justify her work or her clinical expertise.

She did identify one university event where she still feels mis-assigned. Kris’s institution hosts a university showcase of capstone projects from the undergraduates completing their degrees. Faculty members judge the different area of the showcase. Kris shared her experience about being assigned to evaluate and judge the music performances.

And they always want to assign anybody from the school of music to judge jazz

or a music performance. Well, that's not my area of expertise. And they don't get

that I fit more on the research poster side than I do on the creative performances.

Maura expressed concern for having to advocate with administrators for her role and for music therapy. In response to her senior colleague leaving, Maura expressed interest in gaining the title of director since she was performing all of the tasks associated with the role. She described the administration’s response as follows:

My boss was like, “Oh, well.” I said I would want to be program director when

[senior colleague who retired] leaves and he's like, "Well do we need a program

director?" And I said, “Yes. We need a program director.” He gave me a long,

drawn out answer of like, “Hmmmmm, okay.” My institution, as much as they

like the red tape and bureaucracy, are kind of like, “why do we need a

coordinator?”

174 Other participants benefited from not experiencing as many situations regarding challenges in establishing themselves at their new institutions. For the Set Two interviewees, neither Jenny nor Mary expressed concerns for other colleagues or administration having a lack of understanding about music therapy is and how music therapy programs run.

Management of workload and beyond. For the Set One participants, this category, Schedule Management, was a common thread. This theme describes their struggles to manage their teaching, researching, and service schedules, even without mention of keeping a healthy work-life balance. All of the participants made statements of clarity regarding how they were contractually required to spend their time divided among teaching, researching, and service responsibilities; however, managing that division of responsibilities to the satisfaction of the institution and of the individual seemed to escape most of the participants. Kasey stated she struggled to find balance:

And so finding a balance to keep all of that going with everything, you know,

academic wise, your classes, all that. That's really I think been the biggest

struggle just to find that to make sure that I'm meeting deadlines, and I'm staying

on top of things.

Kasey mentioned working to find balance deeper into the interview, again, when she told me about the summer course that junior faculty are offered at her institution. She stated,

“It teaches you how to balance you know, your service and research and your t- all of that stuff.” I responded, “My guess is that you have not yet attended said class.” We shared a laugh, and then Kasey replied, “I have not been yet, no. It’s been too nuts.” Essentially,

Kasey stated that she has been too busy working to balance her tasks to attend a course

175 on how to balance tasks as a junior faculty member. Allie described schedule management as keeping all the “plates spinning.” Kris cited the tasks of prepping classes, grading in a timely fashion, keeping up as her main struggle.

Maura added to the collective narrative that there are required tasks outside of those initial three categories that tend to drain her time.

Learning how to protect my time, I still struggle with immensely. Nobody really

explained to me, or maybe they did but I didn't realize, how many damn emails

you get in a day and how many times someone knocks on your door and how

many times you're gonna be asked to do things.

Several of the participants referred to extra administrative tasks as draining. Lynn described how she appreciated the sharing of the administrative load takes place at her institution, particularly with regard to student advising; however, this division of responsibility among faculty members is not possible for all MTJF members, as many programs only have one or two faculty members. Kasey and Maura have had to carry much heavier administrative burdens due to their added role as coordinators, which is particularly notable as they both are also earlier in their appointments. Maura even lamented on how sometimes she feels like there is more to do than will ever get done.

The data indicated that junior faculty members who have additional administrative responsibilities have experiences of being overwhelmed, potentially feeling inadequate, and possibly harboring deep anxiety over managing and meeting all of the expectations.

Mary’s description of being a new faculty member and hired as the coordinator shared similarities with Kasey and Maura; however, Mary’s narrative revealed college and department administrations that seemed more in-tune with the responsibilities held

176 by Mary, and her load was adjusted appropriately. Mary still expressed feelings of being overwhelmed or of not knowing what she was doing, but she did not express these feelings with the level of passion that Maura or Kasey did. Mary credited having only seven music therapy majors, having an office not in the midst of the classrooms, and being new as reasons for not feeling quite as overburdened as Kasey and Maura. Mary’s words better express her situation:

So our program, we had our first year seven music therapy students. Yeah,

technically, three of them were sophomores. Also, my office's conveniently

located in a building across campus from the music department. So, we're

technically the music therapy building. We have our clinic rooms and everything

but it's not super busy. So not a lot of students come knocking on my door. Also,

they don't, right, exactly. And they don't know me too well yet. So that created a

nice boundary just automatically for me.

Kris gave the most eloquent description of how she manages her calendar.

I find that if I set my schedule, then I have a very clear indication of what days

and hours are going to be research and keeping that. Now, there's times that that

doesn't work, and I have to just...give it up and know that that's going to happen.

But that has helped me be able to be productive on both fronts. I'm also one that

kind of plans ahead so that when I have a time to work, I know exactly what I'm

going to be working on, and I, I triage my list and when I come in on Monday. I

rewrite the list so that I can triage the pieces that need to happen more quickly

than some of the others. So that I'm hopefully staying ahead, but definitely

making deadlines.

177 Tori provided the most candid statement regarding calendar management. She said that it is fine to refuse a task and that faculty members need to feel comfortable turning down those types of requests. Tori went so far as to describe service as a potential “time suck,” suggesting that this piece of a professor’s contract is likely least important and therefore should be prioritized as such.

Maura summed up this theme expressing a real concern she has for herself. She stated,

I can see a trend in my professional life of being asked to do more things, both

professionally like at AMTA, CBMT and then also at the university. All of which

would probably be beneficial to me in my career, but all of them will take away

time to teach or to do research. And so, I think I'm at the point maybe right now is

that moment where I'm realizing if I don't start saying no to people very soon, that

I'm gonna be in trouble [for meeting the standards to be granted tenure].

Vulnerability. This category emerged as a contrast to the Trusted Allies category from the Pivotal Relationships theme. Not all of the interactions or experiences with colleagues and peers were described as positive. Very few of the narratives conveyed experiences that were outright negative; however, there certainly were instances where interviewees made a point that additional support would have been appreciated. For

Maura, more support at the beginning for her appointment would have been appreciated.

She recalled,

The first couple years were really [overwhelming], just learning how everything

works, was really hard. Like, “Who do I go to if I have an issue with this or

who's in charge of this or, what if a student does this?”

178 Maura described a specific situation where a student, who was actively suicidal, was seeking help, and she was the lone soul in the hallway, since all of the senior faculty were in a meeting together. Maura asked herself, “just...is this real life?”

Another example of when a junior faculty member needed assistance and did not have a trusted ally to access was told by Kasey, describing how she was working to find her voice in the forced-upon role of gatekeeper. She described how students had long been admitted to the program when they did not possess the necessary prerequisite skills, nor had they developed the skill necessary to be successful as a music therapy major.

She stated that she still struggles to be the sole individual responsible for counseling these individuals out of the major, after they have spent three or four, sometimes even more, semesters dedicated to music therapy as a major.

Mary triangulated this category as she described an experience that felt less than positive. She sought advice from two music therapy faculty members at a neighboring institution, and the response from one of the faculty members was less than warm. Mary contended that the other faculty member at the institution was helpful and that she believed the cool reception from the first person was a result of that person viewing

Mary’s program as competition for student recruitment and not a purposeful affront to

Mary.

Gatekeeper. This category largely emerged from the narratives of Kasey and

Maura; however, during Set Two interviews, Mary selected this category as another point that resonated with her. Jenny also mentioned her deep awareness of this role that felt disconcerting to her.

179 In the Set One interviews, Kasey and Maura identified their struggle to act as gatekeepers to the profession of music therapy. Neither participant made suggestions that the role was unfair or unnecessary but rather that it was unexpected and challenging.

Kasey shared her struggle when she said,

I think there were quite a few students who were admitted in the past, but you

know, probably shouldn't have originally been admitted. And half way through

the program, they're struggling, and they don't have the foundational music skills.

And you know that they're probably not gonna make it to internship. And if they

get to that point, they're really gonna struggle.

She said it was hard to counsel students out of the program to maintain the integrity of the program and profession without damaging the spirits of the students. Maura described a similar experience as Kasey when she said,

I think there was a little bit of a culture shock of all of a sudden like really being a

gatekeeper in the academy and having to remove students from the program and,

you know, just like deal with some of the bureaucracy. I wasn't quite prepared for

that.

This category also resonated with Mary and Jenny. Jenny said in regard to the exemplars,

The rest makes sense. Like, scheduling and gate keeping and all of that. Gate

keeping is going to be a challenge regardless, but I've been trying to take notes

from [mentor professor] and how she handles things. (laughs) [It sometimes feels

better to] give them the benefit of the doubt.

180 Mary shared some deep reflective thoughts on this category, which led her to pose an even more challenging question as to how she will gatekeep and still be respectful of students’ varying abilities.

It was so, so it was interesting, um, coming into this program this year because the

freshmen had already been accepted. So, I was coming in with these…freshmen,

… there are a couple of things with this school because it's a new program, and

also because we're just trying to grow our numbers in general, we want

everybody. That's an issue, secondly, there were a couple students that kind of

just left because they knew they should…And I was like, "How did this kid get in

here? How I'm I gonna teach him …?"…But that comes to another question,

ethicalness of disabilities in a program…how do we deal with that as gatekeepers

into the program?

Knowledge of Self

The Knowledge of Self theme developed from small statements made throughout the interviews rather than from full narratives or stories told by the participants. This theme elucidates characteristics of the participants. The implications from the collected narratives indicate that these educator participants are great learners and that they, in turn, make good educators. These professors sought (or plan to seek) to earn the highest academic degree granted. These professors sought to share their knowledge. The following categories illustrate these small statements from which this theme was devised.

Development from struggles. The participants were reflective when I posed the question about their professional identity development. Several of the participants responded more toward how they personally have developed, yet within their

181 professional role. Kasey stated how she has had to find her voice and how she has had to quickly learn to negotiate difficult situations and difficult conversations. She said of her development, “…learning how to have those tough conversations. I think overall that's how I've grown. I feel like I've just gotten stronger at being in this position, just personality-wise and just speaking out. Having more confidence.” Ken stated that he has had to develop numerous skills in interaction with colleagues and students and in navigating his transparency and his deliberate nature. Maura smiled as she described her development. She stated that she was confident with teaching, but still feels like a “baby giraffe” when it comes to research; however, she continued that her confidence continues to grow as she is successfully completing projects. Kris made a statement about needing to “sludge to find her groundwork” her first year, but she was then able to “hit the ground running” when she returned for year two. In general, these MTJF members shared narratives about of how they worked through the initial struggles to define and to contextualize their own development.

PhD sets up future. This category was present in all of the narratives provided by the participants. All seven of the Set One participants described how their experiences during their doctorate education prepared them for life in the academy. Maura had the most profound direct experience aimed at preparing her for a future in the academy. Her program offered a seminar on all topics related to higher education. She described it this way.

[Mentor professor] did a music therapy seminar that was all about higher

education. Including but not limited to how to get a job, um, what the tenure

process is like. Also creating rubrics and assessments. We learned about college

182 student development and mapping things we might see in certain classes, in

certain feedback from students to those developments and learning how to help

push them to the next level. I would say we were very well supported.

She credited the course for her feeling very prepared to accept a professorship. Kasey mentioned that she felt prepared by the level of work required for the doctoral degree, stating, “as far as the classes and everything, and the research, it feels like I just went for my PhD and just kept going,” and then she continued with laughter, “I just wasn't taking any classes myself. It was just this added administrative tasks, curriculum and, the whole element of marketing and trying to bring students in and you know. So, yeah.”

Allie painted the most vivid picture of her transition from doctoral education to the academy when she stated that completing the dissertation was the “ultimate spinning of all the plates” and that it is also the perfect metaphor for college teaching. She described how the professor must keep all the plates spinning in order to meet the broad range of expectations that accompany academic positions. Kris described a similar experience, having had the opportunity to teach the whole music therapy curriculum, to conduct research with her professors, and to supervise all levels of music therapy students.

Self as learner. Participants revealed themselves as learners throughout their narratives. Some revealed narratives about being intense learners from a young age. For example, Kris described how, as a high schooler, she went to the city library to research about music therapy and then volunteered to learn even more about her potential future career choice. She told the following story.

183 I was a junior in high school, and I didn't want to give up music, but I didn't see

myself as a classroom music teacher in like, elementary, either way really, K-

12…. my choir director told my dad about it [music therapy], and I went to the

library, and I looked up books because the internet was just starting to be on the

cusp (laughs)…. And who knew how to search anyway. Uh, so I read some like

World War II books….there were literally two or three books in the entire library

of my town, which was, you know, a good size, but just the, we didn't have

publications then….my senior year, I went and volunteered … [at] a hospital for

children…I assisted with clients and helped … facilitate as an extra pair of hands

my entire senior year, with the idea of, if I was going to go out of state to study, I

wanted to make sure that those student loans I was racking up were going to be in

an area that I wanted to actually work in.

All of the participants shared narratives about how they continue to be avid learners in order to be successful in their current academic positions, whether that learning is to support their success as a teacher, a researcher, or an employee. Kasey made a statement about learning in order to be a better teacher.

The teaching one was always, I mean ,yes, I went back and I did that during my

PhD, but I think that was always an area (laughs), like at first I was like, "I have

no idea what I'm doing." (Laughs)….'Cause it's [clinical supervision] always

individual - one on one. And then now all of a sudden, you find yourself in front

of a group, … And now you're, you know, teaching…. I think it's, that's

something that I'm always continually working on to make sure that, I just try to

improve to be a better teacher at all times.

184 Lynn and Maura both made statements about learning in order to produce better research.

Lynn relayed her story about having to learn how to utilize all aspects of her position

(specifically classroom teaching) in order to find her research niche, and Maura drew the comparison between her getting her research feet under her and a baby giraffe.

As examples of learning in order to be a successful employee, Allie shared several stories. She mentioned on numerous occasions how she, along with the rest of her institutional colleagues, had to learn the new electronic dossier system. In a completely different context, Allie described how she learned to negotiate living and working in a small town where it is likely everyone is potentially a common acquaintance. She laughed as she made the statement, “…everyone knows you, like, don't go outside in your pajamas. Don't make an idiot of yourself at a restaurant.” And still in another context,

Allie shared how she was able to learn how to develop courses through the unique needs of each class of students.

Kasey mentioned that she feels like there are “hidden things” to learn how to do and that new professors have to learn who to go to in order to learn those things. Tori described how she learned to say “no” to requests for her time. She also provided the most emotionally charged narrative about a pertinent learning moment when her professor mentors told her things such as “Tori, wait three seconds before you comment on someone's comment,” she needed to adjust some social behaviors to prevent others from interpreting her behaviors as aggressive and argumentative.

Lynn most directly shared stories about being a learner and about having self- awareness of her continued need to learn in order to develop professionally, and even personally. There was a section of her interview about learning how to be a positive

185 reviewer for a journal that really captures this theme. She said, “I've come to the realization that if I use words like, ‘I highly encourage you to include information about your methodology.’ Or, ‘I support this statement; however, you need to have a citation.’...I'm learning, too.” Lynn laughed as she stated, “There's always a learning curve, I find, in everything that we do.”

These MTJF members recognized themselves as students of their professor mentors and of other trusted allies, as previous themes, categories, and subcategories described. Lynn recognized learning about teaching from one professor and about research from another professor. Kasey mentioned learning how to revamp a curriculum from trusted colleagues. She stated,

Well as far as the curriculum, you know thankfully I reached out to people who

have created a lot of degree programs or have been involved in that process. So I

was able to reach out to them and kind of, um, collaborate over the current

curriculum and what changes need to be made and what that would look like.

Maura told multiple stories about her learning different aspects of her job, such as finding the correct resource person for new situations. Maura illustrated the importance of learning about all facets of policies through her narrative about learning that she should have been receiving administrative load for courses she taught, which she believed had to be conducted as independent studies. She told the story this way.

So a lot, my first couple years here I was teaching classes with two or three

students, um, as independent studies and not getting administrative load for them.

So I was, ended up, ending up teaching four classes a semester instead of three.

And then I recently said something to my boss and he's like, "[Maura], if there are

186 two students that need a class, I will sign off on it." And I'm like, well I was told

that it didn't count…But if I had thought, you know, someone had thought to ask

the right person. It was ridiculous.

Maura learned to ask questions to knowledgeable individuals before abiding by the “this is how it’s always done” rule.

Self as educator. These MTJF members recognized their role as music therapy educators, given the academic positions which they hold; however, the participants differed in the chronological point in their careers at which they first recognized themselves as educators. Several of the participants (Allie and Tori) indicated that they knew early in their schooling that a career in higher education was likely, and the others indicated that they began to consider careers in higher education during their master’s degree program (Kris, Ken, Lynn, Maura, Kasey, Mary, and Jenny). The path to recognition of “self as educator” seems to have emerged for most of the participants through their early experiences with clinical supervision. Please refer to Love of

Supervision for example.

Furthermore, during these early clinical supervision experiences, they expressed joy as they observed the development of the students, which closely resembled findings from supporting music therapy literature (Ferrer, 2018; Gooding, 2018; Lloyd et al.,

2018). The data indicated that the identity of educator stems from this delight in observing young therapists develop. Even in their current roles, these participants largely tie their successes to those of their students. For example, Maura stated that she knows she is doing her job well, as her students are winning positions. She stated, “They're

187 getting really good jobs.” When I directly asked Kasey what it means to be a successful academic, she responded

I think to me, it’s having a strong, a strong student body, you know, a strong

program. So all the students are progressing, and they're passionate. And they

wanna con-[tinue] you know, there's no question that they wanna do music

therapy. They're excited to be here, and they're learning and they're excited about

learning. And so I think that is, uh, um, that's one way that I would consider

myself you know, if I've reached my goal where I'm doing a good job.

Recognition of self as educator also appears to stem from emulation of respected mentors. For example, Tori shared how she tells students that their strengths are the areas that they love, just as her mentor professor shared with her. She continued that she imparts nuggets of wisdom from her professors on to her students. Allie, Tori, and Lynn all came from families rich with educators. Lynn even recalled drawing on her teaching roots to boost her confidence in the collegiate classroom. These three participants frequently referenced their teaching capabilities based on that familial history and what they knew from having been around educators.

This category also contains narratives that demonstrated how the confidence of the MTJF members grew as they gained experience. For example, Kris’s gumption to redesign the assignment in one of the major courses demonstrated how with confidence, she began to recognize herself as truly an educator. Similarly, Kasey described her growth and ownership of her role as an educator as she has found her voice in having challenging conversations such as the one with her administrator regarding their graduate program, about which she stated, “and so we've come to an agreement…”

188 Mary was intrigued by this category, and it resounded with her in relation to her experiences. Unlike Kasey, Mary stated that she did not necessarily find increased confidence with her administrators, but that she certainly has embraced this role with the students. Mary stated,

I don't know if it's a hierarchy or this feeling of “I know I might not be as good of

a guitarist”, um, but I do know what I'm doing - And I do have things to teach you

and your questions aren't gonna throw me off. You know, like “I know this

answer.” (laughing). I think some students that I will have in the future and that I

have now are also pushing me ... So, I feel like I know what I'm doing, and I

actually sound like I know what I'm doing.

Summary This chapter sought to convey the findings from the analysis of the Set One interviews, organized into themes made of categories, and in some cases subcategories.

The seven Set One interviews produced data that were categorized into six themes: (1) path to music therapy; (2) preparing for a future in higher education; (3) pivotal relationships; (4) tenure; (5) struggles; and (6) knowledge of self. Each of these themes consisted of numerous categories that were developed through shared, similar experiences or through the differences in experiences found in the analysis of the participants’ narratives. The Set Two interviews corroborated these themes and categories, and their input was reported within the thematic and categorical sections.

Jenny and Mary contributed depth to the initial analysis, and their contributions triangulated the data from the Set One interviews.

189

CHAPTER VI

DISCUSSION

The purpose of this narrative research study was to explore the lived experiences of

MTJF members as they sought to become successful academicians. Seven MTJF members participated in the Set One interviews and two MTJF participated in the Set

Two interviews. The transcripts were analyzed utilizing Saldaña’s codes-to-theory model. Initial coding utilized Emotional Coding, and second level coding used

Theoretical Coding. This study aimed to weave the collected stories into data that can be used to validate the study findings. Additionally, the analysis informs recommendations provided in this chapter for changes to music therapy graduate curriculum in order to better prepare MTs for their transition to the academy. The following research questions guided the collection of these narratives:

• What are the lived experiences of MTJF members during their first five years in

the academy?

• How do MTJF members gain institutional knowledge and experience faculty

socialization as members of the academy?

• How do MTJF members view their professional identity development over time?

190 The resulting Categories and Themes, as presented in Chapter 5, emerged from

these questions and the analyses of the participants’ responses. This chapter aims to

1) interpret these findings with regard to the research questions through a

Transformative Learning Theory lens, and 2) to make recommendations in support of

modifications to the music therapy graduate curriculum.

Research Question One: Lived Experiences

In their narratives, the participants shared stories about experiences leading up to their current positions in the academy and many experiences they have had while junior faculty members. Some of these experiences were overtly meaningful and likely contributed heavily to transformative learning, such as Lynn’s experience of her article being rejected, or Kris’s colleague enthusiastically supporting her modified assignment and likely contributed heavily to transformative learning. However, there were other experiences that the participants shared, which seemed irrelevant at first but as their career unfolded, became important to their larger life experience or to their career trajectories. An example of a small experience that became very important to the participant’s trajectory is Lynn’s experience with the summer continuing education course or Ken going to visit a friend. During data analysis, the role of these experiences, large and small, became pivotal moments or experiences for the interviewees in their careers, as well as in their life decisions.

As I analyzed these experiences and how the participants described them on the theoretical coding level, the question of how an experience was defined as

“transformative” or as a typical learning experience became apparent. Mezirow’s (1991)

Transformative Learning Theory concept of “disorienting dilemmas” entered back into

191 the analysis; however, the negative connotation and the gravity of a “disorienting dilemma” were not suitable to the experiences that were meaningful to these participants.

Given this judgment, I considered the arguments of other Transformative Learning theorists, who suggested experiences that require an adjustment in existing schema/beliefs/assumptions to be made by the learner may be considered transformative

(Cranton, 2016; Illeris, 2014; Newman, 2012). I chose to continue with the idea of these experiences as pivotal experiences, rather than disorienting dilemmas. I proceeded with the analysis considering the idea of “pivotal experiences.” This change in terminology is not alarming. Denzin (1989) stated that personal growth and professional identity development are likely resultants of pertinent experiences and identified pertinent experiences as turning points. This concept seems quite similar. A pivotal experience was considered to exist when an experience resulted in the participant making a pivotal decision that changed the trajectory of the individual’s life.

The following examples from the participants’ narratives illustrate examples of pivotal experiences. Ken may not have attended the doctoral program when he did, with the invitation he received from his mentor professor, nor may have considered a doctoral degree or a future in academia if he had not chosen to go to visit an old friend. Lynn may not have chosen to go back to graduate school for music therapy equivalency had she not experienced her summer course and then decided to call her summer CEU instructor to learn more about music therapy. Tori decided to knock on the door of her future mentor professor, and otherwise may not have chosen to apply for the program. Allie may not have had the opportunity to be a visiting professor had she not had the experience of the summer teaching course and then chosen to tell her mentor professor how much she

192 enjoyed the course. Had Kris’s husband had not encouraged her to return to school, she may have not decided to earn her PhD. If Maura had not visited the impressive university website, she likely would not have decided to move out of state to pursue a degree in music therapy. Had Ken not gone to dinner at his favorite Thai restaurant on the night he did, he would have not had the conversation with the manager about music therapy, which led to his decision to attend a different institution. Kasey enjoyed supervising interns so much, she decided to return to earn her PhD.

These examples illustrate seemingly unremarkable experiences that actually led the individuals who experienced these events to make large decisions that changed their lives. Cranton (2016) stated, in the spirit of Mezirow’s (1991) work, transformative learning manifests in action. The decisions made by the individual, based on those small experiences, are manifested actions. I posit that experiences, however inconsequential or meaningful, may result in transformative learning, given the decisions (action) that directly stem from the experience. The transformative learning takes place prior to the resulting decision and its path, not necessarily from the experience itself. Clandinin and

Rosiek (2007) posited a similar notion when they argued for showing narrative inquiries

“as a series of choices, inspired by purposes that are shaped by past experience, undertaken through time, and [that] trace the consequences of those choices in the whole of an individual…” (p. 40). It should be noted that these authors were not seeking to justify or clarify any conceptualizations of Transformative Learning, as I seek to do. The purpose of mentioning their work is to demonstrate that other theorists have considered the importance of choice playing a role in shaping future experiences.

193 As mentioned in Chapter Three, many transformative learning theorists argue that critical reflection is necessary for transformative learning to take place; however, Cranton

(2016) and Dirkx (2000) made cases for a more liberal interpretation of reflection. I concur that a type of reflection must take place for transformative learning to take place.

But, furthermore, I suggest that critical reflection may be less momentous and obvious than others suggest. Again, the decision to take an action is indicative of reflection, although the critical reflection may not be overtly obvious to an outsider, or really even to the learner. Transformative theorists seem to continue to agree that there must be a shift in the schema of the learner. I propose that when an individual makes a large life decision, such as returning to graduate school or pursuing a new career, that decision is further indicative of changes to that individual’s schema. I go so far as to suggest decisions that momentous are evidence of a qualitative shift in the participants’ identities, as Illeris (2014) and Dirkx (2000) posited as indicative of transformative learning. The clinical music therapist must experience a qualitative shift in identity to then view her/himself as a doctoral student or as a professor or as a researcher.

All of the resultant categories and themes discussed in Chapter Five contribute to answering the first research question, as they coalesced from all of the shared narratives of the participants about their experiences coming to the academy and their first several years in the academy. The exemplars (refer to Appendix One) present small statements from stories about experiences that directly affected the participant’s decision to pursue a career in music therapy and/or experiences that led her/him to the academy. The first two themes (Path to Music Therapy and Preparation for Career in Higher Education) were derived from the myriad of experiences the participants had from their childhood and

194 through their first experiences in higher education. Many of the experiences described by the participants within these themes support the notion that insignificant experiences may have greater effects than one might initially recognize.

Within the theme Tenure, participants relayed stories about clarity and ambiguity regarding their institutions’ expectations for earning tenure. This theme contained conversations where a participant was confident in one statement and then hesitant in the next. Interestingly, the second resulting category, Generous Feedback helped to thwart the ambiguity of the expectations, either through letters or review or through direct verbal feedback.

In the theme Struggles, the four categories collectively describe the ways that the

MTJF members felt less than successful. The category Establishing Academic

Autonomy seemed to stem mostly from the new faculty members not wanted to offend or change too much too quickly. The second category, Management of Workload and

Beyond, derived from a series of narratives describing multi-tasking and still not being able to complete all the work necessary. The third category, Vulnerability, emanated from stories that revealed experiences and moments in time where the MTJF members felt powerless, alone, and/or unsupported. These experiences, while not extremely common, seemed to make large impressions on the participants’ memories. The last category, Gatekeeper emerged as the category closest to revealing a disorienting dilemma. These participants described feeling like that role went against their identities.

There seemed to be an upset to the core values held by the participant or in Illeris’s

(2014) work, the personality level of identity. For Establishing Academic Autonomy, the altruistic nature of a therapist is put to the test by suggesting that there are ways to teach

195 better or assignments that would be more meaningful, where the feelings of another person may be hurt. The same is to be said for the role of Gatekeeper. These participants critiqued university policies that support broad admission. These policies remove the power to interview and to select only suitable candidates for the programs and lead to forced gatekeeping and student removal from programs down the road. Therapists are trained to identify ways to assist others to function at their very best, and so the role of releasing people from a program because they are unable to meet expectations, is again, at odds with core values and even educational training of these participants.

Regarding the theme, The Self, MTJF members collected their experiences, both prior to entering the academy and while starting in the academy. As they gathered these experiences, they had to assimilate their schema and their perceptions of self in order to become successful in the new context of the academy. Some participants may have developed additional identities that were classified into either learner or educator roles.

This concept will be further discussed with regard to the third research question.

In answering Research Question One, it is clear that the participants gained experiences from a very young age that put them on the path to the field of music therapy. After becoming clinical music therapists, the participants continued to gather experiences that moved them in the direction of pursuing higher education as a profession. None of the participants reported alarming, overnight decisions to suddenly change career paths. All of the participants reported having small experiences that planted the seed of becoming educators. Many found clinical supervision to be their gateway experience into wanting to teach and others desired the freedom to do research.

Regardless of the path or the specific experiences, all of the participants had experiences

196 that required them to reflect upon and to modify their schema and their perceptions of self in order to be successful in the academy.

Research Question Two: Gaining Institutional Knowledge

The second research question is also answered by evidential support across the categories and themes. The participants began gaining institutional knowledge during their experiences as graduate students, which is contained in the categories Positive

Educational Experiences and Gaps in Educational Experiences – both contributing to the theme, Preparation for Career in Higher Education. Ken and Tori both mentioned how their doctoral professors exposed them briefly to institutional and collegial politics while they were doctoral students. Both participants also stated that the reality of those political interactions is far more than they realized as doctoral students, but they felt better prepared having had those brief exposures in graduate school. Ken and Tori’s examples further illustrates how Pivotal Relationships and The Self contributed to gaining institutional knowledge. The graduate professors (Coached by Mentor

Professors) created experiences within the PhD programs (PhD Sets Up Future) to expose their graduate students to many of the facets of the academy.

Several of the participants described how their mentor professors continued to provide meaningful guidance post-schooling and well into the participants’ academic careers. For several of the interviewees, graduate school colleagues developed into

Pivotal Relationships. These colleagues, generally who entered the academy just ahead of the participant, provided advice and information regarding institutional knowledge (at least about the academy in general) as best that they could. These findings are very much in line with the literature presented in chapter two. For examples, Cherrstrom (2014;

197 2015) detailed the importance of a support community; Riddick (2015) shared the importance of professional mentors, both at the institution and at other institutions; and

McDonald (2010) wrote about the importance of training and orientation time, mentorship, and clear communication from the institution regarding salary and workload.

The Tenure category also provides input for the second research question. The interviewees all stated that they had received their universities’ tenure guidelines during their on-boarding process at their respective institutions – Lynn even stated that she had received them during the interview process. These resources provided by the institution and presented by knowledgeable individuals contributed to the participants’ gaining of institutional knowledge. These are the resources that the participants identified as being very clear and straightforward; however, these resources seemed to develop ambiguity in the details of the tenure process.

These ambiguous details are the fine nuances or as Kasey called them, “hidden things” of institutional knowledge that junior faculty members need. Lynn referred to a

“culture of vestiges” when describing the same phenomena. These junior faculty members desired to meet all expectations of their positions – both those that were clearly stated in department and institutional documents and those held in the abyss of unwritten, academic tradition. These MTJF members recognized during the review processes encountered thus far, that both the written and the unwritten expectations were assessed by the peer review committees.

In order to learn these fine details, additional Pivotal Relationships were developed as the participants entered and advanced in the academy. The participants sought “staff members who know about this or about that,” “colleagues who had already

198 been successful at this challenge,” and other “cheerleaders” support them on their path to tenure. For examples, Allie identified receiving help with reading her letters of review, and Kasey gained knowledge from others about curriculum redesign. These new Pivotal

Relationships included program colleagues, department colleagues, college/institutional colleagues who constituted the group Trusted Allies. It was these Pivotal Relationships that best contributed to filling in the gaps between the written and on-boarding resources and the reality of peer review committees. These revelations depict that a rich oral tradition of faculty socialization exists within the music therapy professoriate.

Research Question Three: Identity Development

Throughout the interviews, very few statements were made about growth and development and certainly not “professional identity development,” until the specific question was posed. When I posed the question “How has your professional identity evolved?” most of the participants asked for clarification. After clarification, some participants then responded about their whole-person development, and others responded with specific examples of how they have improved certain skill areas. With the analysis of their collective responses, The Self theme and its categories, Development from

Struggles, Self as Learner, and Self as Educator best answer this research question. The category, Establishing Academic Autonomy, from the Struggles theme and categories from the Pivotal Relationships theme are also meaningful. The interaction of these themes and the experiences from which the themes were drawn, paint a picture of professional identity development over time.

Because experiences during graduate school shaped these individuals and put them on the path to careers in higher education, it is reasonable to recognize that their

199 professional identity development began prior to the actual start of their professional life.

Their mentor professors who recruited them back to graduate programs to earn more experiences acted as agents in their early professional identity development, as did the

Trusted Allies who provided guidance.

It is important to note that not all of the participants enjoyed this type of mentorship. It is not clear whether it was the implication that a respected professor believed them capable of success in the academy by suggesting they return to graduate school or the experiences garnered from the graduate program that led the participants to consider careers in the academy. Either way, the mentor professor or the experiences provided by the mentor affected the development of their professional identity of future professor, through both formal mentorship (graduate assistantships) or informal mentorship (visiting about institutional policies or reviewing drafts) (Hansman, 2016).

These findings corroborate the literature about mentorship, particularly those of

Mazerolle et al. (2018) who reported that junior faculty members frequently receive mentorship from numerous colleagues, such as their previous doctoral advisors, peer colleagues, and senior faculty members and those to whom Riddick (2015) referred to as

“institutional cheerleaders” and “mentoring-at-a-distance colleagues.”

As these individuals won positions and became MTJF members, their professional identity development stemmed from a myriad of experiences. The narratives indicated that professional identity development was enhanced through adversity. The participants all shared stories about their struggles, most frequently about feeling inadequate or about not knowing something job-related that they wished they already knew; however, those stories also included details about how they worked to overcome or

200 compensate for those struggles. The fact that all of the participants identified ways that they worked through their struggles suggests development over time and changes to identity and existing schema – both of which support that transformative learning was taking place. In most of the narratives, the participants seemed to view themselves as

“problem solvers” or as “just getting the job done.” It seems that most of these participants are still task-oriented and career-focused, rather than simply reflecting upon their own professional identity development, which makes sense considering the structure of the academy and its demands on junior faculty to be productive.

No participant reported having a tenure requirement where they needed to reflect on their professional identity development. Ken may have been slightly exceptional to this statement. Twice Ken pin-pointed personal attributes (“hyper-deliberate” and

“overly transparent”) to which he credits professional identity development. His mention of these attributes suggests that he has reflected on how they affect his work or others with whom he works. This exceptional reflection may be reflective of his research lines being philosophical and theoretical, rather than clinical or educational like the other participants.

The theme Establishing Academic Autonomy contributes to understanding the initial professional identity development the participants experienced upon entering the academy. These MTJF members stated that they were struggling to interject their expertise into their existing programs. Whether it involved updating assignments as described by Allie and Kris or changing of textbooks as told by Jenny, the participants revealed feeling conflicted when asserting their opinions. Illeris (2014) would likely suggest that pressing these issues went against the core of the participants’ identity or that

201 their personalities were challenged by these responsibilities. These narratives suggest that the participants were experiencing small disorienting dilemmas. Several stated they struggled to modify syllabi or to change assignments based on the traditions of the program. Establishing their role as a valued member of the faculty and as person of knowledge directly implies development of professional identity. In this case, these professors were working to “own” their professional identity as a professor. Both Set

Two interviewees corroborated this notion. Findings of Marine and Martinez Alemán

(2018) and of Aguayo-González and Monereo-Font (2012) that described the importance of identity developing over time through numerous contexts and ultimately answering identity questions such as “Who am I as a professor?” and “What and how do I think I should teach?” corroborate the extrapolations that best answer this research question.

Clearly, as the narratives illustrated, these MTJF members all identified as learners. Their narratives were rich with stories pulled them their experiences as students and as mentees. For their early professional identity development, it is logical to suggest that they likely most identified as learners, even though all of them had successful career experiences interwoven with their schooling.

It is important to note that professional identify development is multidimensional.

For these participants, they were experiencing professional identity development on multiple fronts and in multiple roles, which was identical to the description McDonald

(2010) provided in her narrative regarding the career transition from clinical nurse to academic. For most of the participants, there were areas of their development about which they felt positively and then areas about which they felt defeated or inadequate.

202 An example of an area about which Ken felt positively was his ownership of his own identity development. He captured this area of development when he said

I'm coming in, I'm still going to be junior faculty, and I'm going to need support

and mentorship. But, I'm dealing with my own level of ownership and my own

opportunities to not only learn and grow but to teach. To teach students, to teach

faculty to, to advocate new arenas and avenues for this university, and for the, the

program and the department.

Maura described some feelings of inadequacy or even confusion when asked about her professional identity development. She stated

I feel like I have to be…it's like an Everclear song, “Everything to Everyone.”

Trying to be everything to everyone…I still - I'm a clinician first and foremost.

I'm a music therapist and I get to do that with my students by supervising them in,

in sessions. But then I, I don't exactly feel like a researcher or a scholar because I

still am like a little baby, um, deer ... like April’s baby giraffe like trying to figure

out what the hell I'm doing…I definitely feel like a teacher. Um, but I o- often

don't really feel like I know (laughs) what I'm doing either. Or I don't know. I just,

I feel like I have my two feet in like five or six different worlds at the same time.

So, I don't really know who I am.

These individuals recognized themselves as learners while in school, and they also recognized themselves as learners amidst their new positions – they were apprentices of a new environment, new community, and new requirements. All of the participants recounted stories about ways they have improved through being open to learning at their new positions. Furthermore, several stated how they have sought out learning

203 experiences in order to better develop. Their efficacy for their professional identity development, as learners, was very robust.

In the context of the theme Self as Educator, it is notable that “educator” is separate from “professor.” Their professional identity development was supported through their self-efficacy for their role as educators. Their early experiences that constructed this efficacy were those involving clinical supervision and opportunities in graduate school to act as mentors to younger students, a professional activity that appeared to give them great satisfaction. Several of these participants even shared moments where they have provided mentorship to other MTJF members who were seeking advice. These experiences contributed to their professional identity development by increasing their efficacy as educators, which suggests there were modifications to the self-perception that Mezirow (1991) states should be present if transformative learning takes place. These positive beliefs about their abilities in teaching or mentoring positively contributed to their professional identity development as professors. The narratives further indicated that several of the participants have experienced the greatest professional identity development by observing the successes and development of their students, to which they believe they contributed through their guidance. This finding provides additional data to the literature that suggests contributing to the next generation of a field is a primary motivator for educators (Cherrstrom, 2014; Foster, 2018; Lloyd et al., 2018; McDonald, 2010).

Overarching Concepts

One tenet of narrative methodology is that data are organized chronologically.

Although the categories are not organized in such a fashion, the themes largely reflect

204 this tenet, as they can be divided by pre-academy and peri-academy experiences (Self as

Learner and Self as Educator are exceptions to this supposition). Utilizing the themes to answer the research questions did not fully reflect the interactions of the pivotal experiences, the pivotal relationships, and the participants.

In order to better capture the overarching interactions of these entities, I developed Figure 2. This figure is based chronologically, moving from left (early) to right (later). The Self is foundational to the model, as this study sought to gather the stories of individuals, and the concept of “I” or “self” is the basis for each narrative.

Each story stemmed from experiences, and themes emerged from the experiences shared by the participants. Based on Transformative Learning Theory, the Self is representative of the learner and her/his existing schema.

Given the caveats that stories are self-selected for reasons unknown to the researcher, that some stories may not surface during an interview, and that some stories may only be shared provided a longer narrative engagement, the narratives shared by the participants were meaningful and shared with intent. The participants’ decisions to share the stories that they told suggested that those stories were pertinent in the mind of each participant, further suggesting that these experiences should be considered pivotal experiences. Experiences that are not meaningful in some way are likely not to be recalled or shared in such a capacity. Furthermore, it is notable that these narrated experiences may have been positive or negative experiences – either way, they were meaningful. These pivotal experiences are most analogous to the concept of disorientating dilemmas in transformative learning theory. These experiences can be

205 chronologically organized. The center section of the model (the ovals) identifies common pivotal experiences of the participants, divided into chronological time periods.

Throughout each interviewee’s narrative, they described people or relationships that affected their experiences and somehow made the experiences even more pivotal.

These relationships may have been positive, affirming, and encouraging relationships or they may have been derogatory, discouraging relationships. The “goodness” or

“badness” of the relationship is inconsequential to the value of the experience; however, the critical reflection and pivotal decision that followed the experience were likely heavily influenced by the goodness or badness of the relationship. Because these Pivotal

Relationships existed at all points in time in the lives of the participants, they are represented as continuous on the model. Transformative learning theory does not have a concept for people who affect the learning. I hypothesize that most transformative learning theorists would categorize the experiences associated with the people, not the relationships themselves.

The arrows on the model demonstrate the interactions. The influence of Pivotal

Relationships contributes to each area of the model, beginning with setting the Self on the path to music therapy. These relationships may affect which experiences the Self has and may influence the reflection and decision stemming from the thoughts of Self.

Additionally, the experiences of Self counter-influence who may emerge as the next pivotal relationship to Self. This idea of advancing to the next relationship or to the next experience is a transformative learning concept. It suggests that as the learner adjusts his/her habitual assumptions to accommodate for the foreign information provided by the experience, transformative learning has occurred.

206 Following the learning process through this model, I posit that Self has an experience, on which Self reflects (box labeled Critical Reflection). The result of that reflection leads to a pivotal decision that becomes Self’s next step. According to

Transformative learning theory, an action is required to demonstrate learning (Mezirow,

1991). This decision serves as the action. That decision, or step, leads to another experience. This new experience then requires the Self to repeat the reflection and decision process. This process repeats continually and is constantly influenced by pivotal relationships. The Pivotal Relationships can affect what types of experiences are had by the Self, and conversing, the types of experiences had by the Self can affect which relationships become pivotal. Transformative learning theory suggests that the continual development and adjustment to the Self (identity) through reflection and action in order to make sense out of the experiences, especially those that are outside of the Self’s core assumptions, demonstrates transformational learning.

The interaction between the self and the pivotal relationships merits further discussion and its own model. Throughout all of the participants’ narratives, there were three constants: the self, the experiences, and the relationships with other people. There are two types of individuals reflected within the label “pivotal relationships.” First, there are individuals who began as seemingly unremarkable, such as the manager at the Thai restaurant or the summer continuing education instructor – who, over time may (or may not) have become far more significant than initially thought. Secondly, there are individuals who were significant to the Self, such as family, Mentor Professors, or

Trusted Allies.

207 The first type of individual described parallels my previous supposition that some inconsequential experiences result in transformative learning. I posit that relationships and interactions within those relationships may seem irrelevant but that they may develop into very important relationships (as in the case of the summer continuing education instructor becoming a mentor professor to Lynn) or lead to relevant future experiences

(as in the case of the manager telling Ken about studying music therapy).

The second type of individuals encompassed in Pivotal Relationships are those individuals who are very important to the Self. The idea that family members are important to the Self is obvious. Regarding this inquiry, family members had an enormous impact on the participants discovering music therapy as an initial profession.

As the narratives advanced chronologically, family members have impact on the timing of returning to school and to taking new job/positions. These relationships are impactful on the experiences gained and chosen by the Self.

Due to the findings of the current study closely resembling the findings of literature from other professions detailed in chapter two, I further posit that this model may be applicable to professors from professions other than music therapy. It is reasonable to consider that this model would be applicable to professors who experience mid-career transition to the academy, particularly those professors from clinical professions such as nursing, occupational therapy, speech/language pathology, physical therapy, and medicine. These professions are identified specifically due to their similarities with early educational experiences and requisite skills that would be similar to music therapists, such as developing treatment plans, assessing and understanding diagnoses, empathy and altruism, and seeking to help others who have varying abilities

208 and neurodiversity. Some literature may suggest even broader application of the model

(e.g., Braun and Mauldin, 2012) provided the similarity of experiences of junior faculty

who transitioned from established careers.

Figure 2: Model of Interaction Among The Self, Pivotal Experiences, and Pivotal

Relationships

PIVOTAL RELATIONSHIPS

Academy

Pre-career Pre-academy Tenets of Tenure Educational Journey to MT Supervision The Self Connection to disability

PIVOTAL [Clinical] Struggles

EXPERIENCES

PIVOTAL DECISIONS

CRITICAL REFLECTION

THE SELF

There was a large, overarching concept that wove itself in and out throughout all

of the narratives and was intangible to categorization: social capital. Coleman (1988)

209 popularized the concept of social capital. He described the ability of some communities to establish a highly dense social web of relationships, a groundwork of trust and reciprocity, and the accumulation of experiences of mutual benefit, which cooperate to form and to enforce community norms and supports. These MTJF members found themselves as members of such a tight-knit community – music therapy faculty members.

This specific community developed over time and through different career stages of all of its members. The Mentor Professors began their careers as clinical music therapists and transitioned to the academy, just as all MTJF members have. These types of shared experiences through several generations built an extremely dense web of relationships, developed deep trust and reciprocity, and amassed infinite experiences of mutual benefit.

The importance of social capital manifested in the themes of Mentor Professors and Trusted Allies and then continued to surface throughout the analysis. Pivotal relationships provided the participants with immense social capital and large professional networks that not only benefitted the participants while in the company of the relationship but also forever after, in many of the cases. For example, some participants report accessing social capital of their mentor professors or trusted allies for advice, for gaining information from a colleague of the professor, for a recommendation for a position, for participating in a doctoral study, or for an article review. Establishing relationships with these individuals has benefitted the participants tenfold and placed these individuals in even a higher place of privilege. Furthermore, consider the case of the participants who earned multiple degrees from the same institution. The amount of social capital for repeat degree earners was even greater, as the relationships grew deeper and broader. These individuals were able to access social capital from their first

210 experience to build additional capital upon their return with new faculty members and students, with having the benefits of previous relationships – and institutional knowledge.

For those individuals who did not have institutions where multiple degrees were earned, it is important to consider their broader experiences. Some of those individuals may have not built social capital with their initial, undergraduate (in the case of music therapy, graduate-equivalency) professors – maybe the program was too large, or the student moved through the program too fast, or the professor was on sabbatical. That student is leaving the program as a disadvantaged professional before even becoming board-certified. As this professional then seeks to enter the academy, the lack of social capital from her/his initial entry into the field takes a further toll. This junior faculty member does not have the dense web of relationships nor the accumulation of experiences of mutual benefit that her/his MTJF peers may have. This junior faculty member likely will not have the same opportunities for mentorship and allies. The lack of relationships and allies will force this junior faculty member to have to work harder and longer to locate mentors and allies when problems arise, or challenges are presented

– all while working through the tenure process. It is likely that this junior faculty member will have additional feelings of inadequacy stemming from the lack of advice granted by mentors and trusted allies that would have otherwise led the junior faculty member to know how to manage or avoid a situation. In other words, without that guidance from social capital, these junior faculty members are more likely to find pitfalls and are less likely to have the foundational support to recover quickly.

When further unpacking the reciprocity of these relationships, I would be remiss to not mention the benefits enjoyed by Mentor Professors and other Trusted Allies. I

211 hypothesize that students of Mentor Professors (no matter how long ago they were students) and that colleagues of Trusted Allies are more likely to participate in professionally beneficial experiences when asked by a Mentor Professor or Trusted Ally.

For example, Lynn did not think twice about sharing her project with the local hospital program, after her Mentor Professor suggested she do so. I further hypothesize that professional organizations are fueled by these relationships. When young professionals are invited to participate by respected and Trusted Allies or by Mentor Professors, they are more likely to agree to these commitments because of who asked them to participate.

This type of professional social capital borders on nepotism.

For the Tenure and Struggles categories, these Trusted Allies and Mentor

Professors re-enter the narrative. These pivotal relationships shined light on the ambiguity of the tenure process and provided the writers and interpreters of the letters of review for the junior faculty members. These relationships involved the people who revealed the unwritten rules of the academy and shared the institutional knowledge needed by the junior faculty members. Participants who enjoyed the protection of administrators and senior faculty members from heavy workload commitments in their years as junior faculty members, reported having fewer administrative and service obligations. Several of the participants had the benefit of protection from these people in places of higher power. Other participants who did not have this social capital from

Trusted Allies in places of power reported far greater instances of stress and responsibilities. These Trusted Allies with high social capital re-emerged in the theme

Workload Management and Beyond, also, because they protected “The Self” from being overburdened while establishing Academic Autonomy.

212 These relationships between “The Self” and others and the experiences that result from the relationships all interact. Consider Figure 3. The Self seeks an experience, during which The Self meets others who are interested in the same experience. Then,

The Self interacts with that relationship, over shared interest, which gains The Self even more experiences; and therefore, more relationships. For the participants of this study, consider how many of them attended an undergraduate program from which they received glowing recommendations from their professors, which were sent to other programs (likely led by music therapy faculty members who were members of the tightly knit web of relationships), which put them on the path to other pivotal relationships, which resulted in other pivotal experiences.

Figure 3: Interaction of the Self, Pivotal Relationships, and Pivotal Experiences

Self

Relationships Experiences

With regard to Transformative Learning theory, these pivotal relationships contributed to the cognitive reframing of The Self’s schema. As these relationships presented additional opportunities for experiences and for adding to the Self’s social capital, the Self had to adjust to accept the new identity that came with the relationship.

For example, the participants who were selected to hold graduate teaching or research assistantships had the experience of building additional social capital, as well as

213 developing their identity as a teacher or as a researcher. In other words, The Self had to change its assumptions in order to assimilate to the new role.

As mentioned in chapter five, participants in this current study shared contextual similarities and were pulled from a small population, all of whom attended college, attended graduate school (most participant’s twice), most of whom came from homes where private music lessons were afforded and where the value for education was realized through the family’s social and economic capital - generally middle class, predominantly white backgrounds and places of privilege. The homogeneity of the participants, and actually of the profession of music therapy (predominantly female and predominantly white), is indicative of the long-term effects of social and economic capital limiting the diversity of the field, and thus the music therapy professoriate. With limited diversity in the MT professoriate and with the strong social capital passed from mentor professors to junior professors, it is concerning that music therapy students may be limited in their exposure to diversity in race, religion, gender/sexuality, culture, and thought and belief.

Recommendations for Music Therapy Graduate Curriculum

The theoretical basis for this study is that experiences lead to learning, which leads to knowledge and ultimately wisdom (Cranton, 2016; Dewey, 1938; Mezirow,

1991). The narratives of these MTJF members indicate that their experiences have provided them opportunities to learn and to develop as music therapy educators. Certain experiences, identified as pivotal experiences, contributed to more meaningful learning or to a change in career trajectory, leading them to the academy. In order to best prepare music therapists to become members of the academy, it is these experiences on which the

214 music therapy professoriate must focus. An additional purpose for these recommendations is to provide potential future MT professors a smooth transition, free of as many conflicts as possible. Recommendations for music therapy graduate programs are as follows:

1) Music therapy graduate programs must include opportunities for experiences

in teaching, in supervision, and in institutional politics for both master’s and

doctoral degrees.

All of the participants stated how meaningful these experiences were, not

only to their learning about music therapy and how MT students develop but

also to their interest in becoming a professor. The addition of either

curriculum or a seminar on the academy would better prepare future

professors. A concept that developed from the interviews of the participants

who had been exposed to the underbelly of the academy was that they at least

had their eyes wide open, even though their vision was not 20/20. Not all

programs will be able to fund these experiences as assistantships; however,

learning opportunities should not be limited in programs due to budget

constraints. These experiences could otherwise be incorporated into seminars

or other coursework if necessary.

2) Graduate programs in music therapy should plan for extensive professor

mentorship of graduate students.

Professors coordinating graduate programs or professors teaching graduate

students in these areas need to be aware of the impact that their time, their

interest, and their wisdom have on students – not only as clinicians, not only

215 as future professors, but also as people. If the field of music therapy is to

develop and advance through excellent education and through excellence in

scholarship, resilient relationships between professor mentors and graduate

students must exist. Most graduate programs are not allowed to cap their

enrollments. This recommendation may overburden professors who are

already working beyond their contractual obligations; however, the findings of

this study indicate that professor mentors are cornerstones, supporting the

development of the next generation of music therapy professors.

3) The music therapy professoriate should require a PhD for tenure-track

positions.

These types of positions require success in teaching, research, and service,

and this recommendation is based on doctoral students gaining a number of

experiences provided by the additional time in graduate school, including

designing and conducting a large study or other research, their exposure to

politics of the academy, gaining additional experiences with theoretical

concepts, and spending significant time with mentor professors. The

participants who earned their PhDs still shared narratives illustrating their

feelings of inadequacy and lack of understanding for numerous aspects of the

academy and their positions. These individuals had extensive experiences in

teaching and researching prior to entering the academy. MTs without those

doctoral experiences who are hired into the academy likely will feel

ridiculously unprepared and inadequate to meet the demands of a tenure-track

position. For example, Mary, who is new to the academy and who holds a

216 master’s degree has already applied to a doctoral program, seeking additional

education. She quickly recognized that more learning and experience was

necessary to feel prepared for her position and to find success in the academy.

Additionally, the participants who obtained the master’s equivalency

degree were not privy to the experience of supervising of MT students, which

was identified as a pivotal experience to most of the participants. MTs who

obtained the master’s equivalency degree would benefit from the pursuit of a

PhD in order to gain of those experiences.

This recommendation does not involve positions in the professoriate that

are clinically-oriented. These positions may include professors of practice,

professors of clinical practice, or clinical coordinators. If any

recommendation were to be made for these positions per the theoretical

foundations of this study, they would include these professors having

extensive experience in clinical settings and in clinical management.

Furthermore, individuals who earned a PhD but who gained only the minimal

requirement of clinical experience should not be considered for these

clinically-oriented positions.

4) Music Therapy programs should sustain mentoring and support for MTJF in

their years before securing tenure and promotion, especially for those in high-

commitment roles, such as program coordinator.

The participants who had the additional role of program coordinator were

most candid in their frustrations. The role of coordinator requires an

additional skill set to be developed by the professor. These individuals need

217 time and mentors to support that development. One may even go so far as to

support the idea that new graduates or new faculty members should not be

hired into such positions. Coordinator positions may best be filled by faculty

members with experience in the academy; however, I concede that requiring

coordinators to have experience in the academy may result in institutions

poaching professors and causing distress to music therapy programs and their

hosting institutions.

5) The profession and its future professors would benefit from a textbook on

college teaching and supervision in music therapy. This textbook should be

sure to include the opportunity costs associated with transitioning careers, as

well as the basics of institutional knowledge.

6) Increase the diversity in the field of music therapy (and MTJF members,

eventually) through financial support and through advocacy efforts to recruit

and admit students of varying backgrounds, cultures, and economic capitals.

Several of the participants stated that the only scholarships available are

for performance in ensembles or for assistantships, suggesting the need for

music therapy programs to have access to their own scholarship monies. If

music therapy programs were able to offer scholarships, the profession would

be better suited to advocate for diversity in race, creed, sexuality, gender,

nationality, and socioeconomic status in students, with hopes of improving the

diversity of the profession.

I concede that several of these recommendations will be prohibitive for several reasons. First, many institutions do not have the financial strength to support what is

218 recommended. Additionally, several of the recommendations are prohibitive to individuals who are unable to afford additional education or additional training.

Limitations

This study is not beyond reproach. The greatest limitation to the study is the size of the population from which the participants were recruited. Currently, there are fewer than 40 individuals who meet the inclusion criteria of this study. Although recruitment for diversity of participant by region was attempted, several regions of the only had one potential participant, who did not respond to the participation invitation. With the seven interviewees in Set One interviews and the two interviewees for Set Two interviews, almost a quarter of the potential population provided data. Two additional members of the population include one of my committee members and me. This population is very limited; however, the narratives retold in this current study are the stories of only these participants.

Another limitation to this study further relates to the population size. Because of the nature of this population, the participants have over-lapping histories and shared connections. Several participants were well-aware of each other’s participation in this study and may have discussed responses outside of the study.

The demographics of the population are also a limitation of the study. I was unsuccessful in recruiting persons of color. There was limited diversity of age, as well.

The population itself is very homogenic, and the participants in this study were demonstrative of that homogeneity.

My relationship with some of the participants may have limited their revealing of the truth or the severity/degree of their responses, or the relationship may have been

219 beneficial in their willingness to be candid. I concede that I likely leveraged my own social capital in the recruitment of participants. However, introductions were necessary for four of the nine participants and me, as we did not have a previously-established relationship beyond “knowing of each other” or “oh, we’ve seen each other before.”

Recommendations for future inquiry

The most obvious recommendation for future inquiry involves examining the experiences of senior music therapy faculty members. It would be beneficial to explore the differences in experiences and in the perceptions of the educators who recently earned tenure and then those educators who have many years of experience and who have earned the rank of full professor. This type of inquiry would allow for a comparison and contrast to the findings of this current inquiry. Furthermore, this proposed future study could examine if newly tenured music therapy faculty members support and mentor their colleagues who are still working toward tenure or if these associate professors experience changes in perception of their institution and its policies once tenure is earned.

Another recommendation for future inquiry is to expand the inclusion criteria of the current study to invite adjunct faculty members, full-time-non-tenure-track faculty members, and non-tenure-track-clinical faculty members to participate. These individuals likely have some experiences that are similar to their tenure-track colleagues; however, it is conceivable that their struggles and concerns will be vastly different, as they do not have the guidelines for tenure with which to contend.

The collection of the narratives of mentor professors would round out this area of inquiry. Many of these individuals were identified in the narratives of the current

220 inquiry, and their stories may be discovered as foundational to the experiences now shared by the next generation of music therapy faculty members.

Additionally, the exploration of the broader application of the proposed model should be explored. This proposed exploration would be an immense undertaking, as it suggests collecting data from many junior faculty members from many areas of expertise that required a certification or career prior to entering the academy, across many institutions.

However, for this model to progress to a theory or assertion, as suggested by Saldaña’s

(2016) code-to-theory model, this exploration is imperative.

Summary

The purpose of this narrative research study was to explore the lived experiences of

MTJF members as they sought to become successful academicians. Seven MTJF members participated in the Set One interviews and two MTJF members participated in the Set Two interviews. The transcripts were analyzed utilizing Saldaña’s codes-to- theory model. Initial coding utilized Emotional Coding, and second level coding used

Theoretical Coding. This study aimed to weave the collected stories into data to be used to validate the study findings and to recommendations for changes to music therapy graduate curriculum. The findings indicated 19 categories, organized into six themes.

This chapter aimed to interpret these findings with regard to the research questions through Transformative Learning Theory, through a social constructivist lens and 2) to make recommendations for modification to the music therapy graduate curriculum. The interpretation of the data suggested that a strong interaction exists among The Self, Pivotal Relationships, and Pivotal Experiences, where The Self is responsible for reflection and for decision making. Furthermore, the interpretation

221 indicated that the experiences were frequently pendant on the social capital of the participant. The recommendations to the music therapy graduate curriculum expanded to include recommendation for music therapy programs, as well.

The current inquiry contributes to the body of research in the field of music therapy as well as in the area of faculty socialization to the academy. This exploration of the experiences of MTJF members as they seek to become successful academicians illustrates that junior faculty members narrate stories of highs and lows, of vulnerability and strength, and of the importance of relationships with others from the past, in the present, and in the future. From these shared narratives, recommendations for modifications to graduate music therapy curriculum and music therapy programs were made with the intent of contributing to the future successes of future music therapy junior faculty members.

Closing Thoughts

Regardless of the numerous struggles about which the participants shared stories, all of the participants demonstrated resilience and persistence. For those interviewees who have had or who are nearing their final tenure review, all stated that they are confident that they will meet the expectations and be granted tenure. These individuals were inspiring to me, and I believe their stories will inspire other MTJF members. These narratives and their resultant themes/categories may provide comfort to MTJF members who may be experiencing feelings of inadequacy and who may be wondering if only they experience such things.

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Adult Learning, 26(1), 14-20.

238 Appendix 1 – Themes, Categories and Exemplars Themes & Categories Exemplars Path to Music Therapy During a parent/teacher conference, my dad mentioned to my choir director that I really My mom encouraged me to work with wanted to study music, but that I did not think the children with disabilities. I would being a music teacher was the right fit. Her often start children with disabilities in Experiences that mom had just had a stroke and was working private lessons and then would move Led to MT with a music therapist and was able to regain them into my group classes so they could her speech through music therapy using interact with other kids and so we could melodic intonation therapy. She told my dad actually play games with other kids about it, and I went to the library and I looked up books on it… I volunteered with that music therapist at Connection to a local hospital for children with I grew up around kids with disabilities and I Disability disabilities my senior year of high knew that was my thing. school. Preparation for Career in Higher Education I also knew that I had started an internship, I Love of Supervision I just loved to see them develop had practicum students, I LOVED that piece of it. I loved the student interaction piece. We had a class that taught us about higher education - including, but not limited to how to We taught a minimum of two classes get a job, what the tenure process is like. Also Positive Educational each semester throughout the PhD, so it creating rubrics and assessments. We learned Experiences was crazy about college student development and mapping things we might see in certain classes.” …because you know in your PhD, they do a really good job of, you know, you She relayed that she always had a syllabus from get to teach, and you’re doing your which to work, but that she frequently added in Gaps in Educational research, and you have college teaching some material or modernized a reading or two Experiences classes. But no one really talks about, in order to keep the students as current as “Hey, if one day you have to create a possible. whole new curriculum.” Pivotal Relationships

I just kept thinking about the material from the An acquaintance mentioned that she was continuing education class. I called the Influential Persons going to a local university to study music instructor who visited with me. After that call, Leading to MT therapy, and I responded, "Well tell me I decided to pursue the master's equivalency about music therapy.” degree. I was talking with my old professor and Mentor Professors said, "You know, I might come back for Her professors recruited her back for her (recruited by mentor my masters someday," and she master’s degree even before she finished professors) responded, "Well you know, I got a spot undergrad. next year."

239 [Mentor professors] encouraged me to go talk to them [music therapists at the hospital “…all of my teachers have given me so program] and share this project that I had done much amazing attention that my standard (coached by mentor at internship…and so I brought that in, just for what I need to do for my students is professors) thinking that they might be interested in this through the roof high…because that is resource... and it turned into an interview. And how I was taught.” that was a little unexpected…but then I received that position at [hospital]. I am so grateful for the guidance and “What [she] says, is what I do,” and mentorship of colleagues. One particular sage “she’s very wise, and knowledgeable, Trusted Allies piece of advice was "never being discouraged to and pragmatic. And she will tell you like speak…but having been encouraged to listen a it is in the nicest, kindest way possible.” lot." Tenure I am very prepared for what I need to do, and “…within the school, one thing I the “handbook is fairly clear.” The handbook appreciate is that the expectations for specifies that there must be an article per year; tenure are mapped out, so that you know however, it does not specify what type of Clarity and Ambiguity exactly. This is what I’m doing, it gets article. The peer review committee seems to be qualified as high, mid, or low range.” flexible with the types of articles, where some [later followed by the statement] “That’s may think the articles should be peer reviewed not really specified.” and others think differently. A senior colleague, seasoned and successful, She is confident that she has met was reviewing her tenure packet, and he expectations in those areas or that she has informed me that I did not have enough appropriately remedied any concerns in Generous Feedback publications, and that I likely would not have those areas by stating, “…I know how to enough published when it came time for my read my letter…Because those letters final review. He highly encouraged me to get give you things to do. more out…quickly. Struggles So, there was this interesting, what do I leave in, what do I take out? How much “…my first semester I didn’t change anything do I leave the same versus how much to I ‘cause I didn’t know how the pieces fit completely renovate? I don’t want to be together. And I had a fear of changing a crucial Establishing Academic the person that wrecks [the program piece that was going to lead to something next Autonomy founder’s] syllabus. I mean, she taught semester.” After settling in to the position and for 30 years, why would I take this viewing the future syllabi, she felt more beautiful thing that she’s crafted over confident to begin making changes. time and just be like, ‘Pish, no, I’m not gonna listen to her”? …learning how to protect my time, which I struggle with immensely. Nobody explained to me, or maybe they I’m also one who plans ahead so that when I did but I didn’t realize how many damn have a time to work, I know exactly what I’m emails you get in a day and how many going to be working on, and I, yeah, I triage my times someone knocks on your door and Management of list and when I come in on Monday, I rewrite how many times you’re gonna be asked Workload and Beyond the list so that I can triage the pieces that need to do things. And learning how to say to happen more quickly than some of the others. yes and no strategically, but also So that I’m hopefully staying ahead, and worrying if you say no, how it’s going to definitely making deadlines. affect how you are thought of as a colleague…I don’t know how to manage it all.

240 One of the first questions they asked me was like, "Oh, are you planning to start a master’s program?" And I didn't know where that was Who do I go to if I have an issue with coming from and I was like, “Not right now.” I Vulnerability this or who's in charge of this or, what if can barely figure out coordinating everything a student does this? undergraduate. They're like, "Oh good, because, you know, we want to get new students." So, uh, as soon as I heard that comment, I thought, "Oh, we're a competition.” Better watch out. She had not anticipated her role as I think there was a little bit of a culture shock of gatekeeper to the profession of music all of a sudden like really being a gatekeeper. therapy. Kasey shared how challenging In the academy having to remove students from Gatekeeper it has been to counsel students out of the the program and you know, just dealing with music therapy major, referring back to some of the bureaucracy. I wasn’t quite having the “difficult conversations.” prepared for that. The Self …Understanding how to set boundaries, how to I definitely think I have grown, well set a schedule that, that works with my needs, professionally and personally. I feel like but also taking care of the rigor you’re dealing I am able to speak up more and be more with every single day…How to interact with assertive, because I’ve just been pushed your peers. How to interact with students. into it [laughs] so many times. It’s easier How to meet students where they’re at so that for me to have difficult situations, or Development from your evaluations are gonna come back in a way different conversations…so, learning to Struggles that are helpful to you. I mean, in a, in a way, have those tough conversations and, how to teach them how to evaluate you without yeah, I think overall that’s how I’ve you leading them to evaluate you grown. I feel like I’ve just gotten strong inappropriately, if that makes sense…I tend to at being in this position. Just be not only deliberate but perhaps transparent, personality-wise and just speaking out. perhaps overly transparent at times. I’ve found And yeah, having more confidence. it often to be valuable. …writing a dissertation was the ultimate spinning of all of the plates, which is the perfect metaphor for college teaching…it The PhD program that I came out of left me [dissertation writing] is this arcane with three publishable pieces plus the academic process that we’ve held on to, dissertation. Plus, I had done a research study but then you really see how it helps PhD Sets Up Future with faculty members outside of my PhD [when one transitions to professor] in studies. And so, what I’ve been working on that ‘let me keep these different plates these first couple of years is publishing those, spinning at all times’ and sometimes so they don’t just sit in the drawer. they’re spinning a little faster, and other times, they’re not, and I know that I need to keep them all spinning.”

And then watching people...let me see if And I learned a lot from both of them. About Self as Learner I can emulate that and learn through that. how to teach, and how to work with students. I need to learn a lot more about it.

She was able to focus on her teaching Celebrating her students’ successes is clearly roots and recognized her confidence in one of the highlights of the position. Her affect Self as Educator the classroom. A colleague even brightened as she added with pride that “they reminded her, “You’re teaching students are getting jobs…good jobs.” for our future that doesn’t yet exist.”

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